


Not a Memory Yet

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-28
Updated: 2008-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: In the months since the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron has been plagued with nightmares. Insecurities, doubts, and fears that were stirred up by wearing the locket Horcrux prevent him from moving forward. Can Hermione help save him from himself?This fic is my submission for The Quidditch Pitch’s Ron-a-Thon silent auction. It was commissioned by the wonderful MrQuatto, who requested angst, smut, and Hermione finding out about Ron's Horcrux/locket experience and proving to him how wrong the locket was.





	1. Chapter 1 - In the Deep of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> This fic is my submission for The Quidditch Pitch’s Ron-a-Thon silent auction. It was commissioned by the wonderful MrQuatto, who requested angst, smut, and Hermione finding out about Ron’s Horcrux/locket experience and proving to him how wrong the locket was.
> 
> I want to say a huge thank you to Stacy, a dear friend and awesome beta, who looked over everything with careful eyes and quick wit. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads and reviews- you’re all very appreciated! ~Risie :o)

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 1 (In the Deep of the Night) 

 

 

 

***** 

 

 

I rolled over for what seemed like the millionth time, not sure why I was still trying to sleep. It was such a pointless effort these days. _Just like so many other things in my life._

 

If I had thought that Harry finally vanquishing the most evil bastard who ever lived would make everything perfect, I would have been dead wrong. If I had thought that after the War, everything would go back to how it had been and it would be life as usual, I would have been completely delusional, to say the least. If I had thought that Hermione rushing into my arms and snogging the life out of me in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts meant I had nothing to be insecure about where she was concerned, I would clearly have not paid any attention to my history with Hermione, especially how nothing was ever easy between us.

 

_Even the good stuff is more work for us than for other people._

 

Luckily, I was too realistic to have foolish dreams about an impossibly perfect future. I knew hard times were still ahead. It was hard to believe, but seven months had passed since that fateful night. Seven months of funerals and tears, rebuilding and renewing, nightmares and sleepless nights- all of which had taken a toll on me. That’s not to say everything had been a struggle. Certainly, the Wizarding world had been drastically different, better, safer. Yet I felt as though the ground beneath my feet was still shifting, not quite to a place of stability.

 

My life wasn’t shaping up to quite what I had thought it would be, not that I was complaining. _At least I'm alive, at least we survived it all._ I hadn’t really given much thought to the future, except in broad generalisations. I never wanted to plan on something and then be disappointed when it didn’t work out. I thought it was better to accept that I wouldn’t always get my first choice and I could still appreciate where I landed, as opposed to constantly feeling bitter over missed chances and broken dreams.

 

After the War, I simultaneously worked for the rebuilding efforts and helped George to keep the shop running. I helped George to honour Fred’s memory, his legacy, and his life. It was the only way I knew to be the brother he needed. I helped the rebuilding efforts so I could forget, so I could put it all behind me. I helped to hide the evidence of the horrors we had lived through by recreating better days, because I needed to believe the future would be different for generations to come.

 

Losing Fred was hard, no doubt about it. I hadn’t been prepared for him to die. Me? Absolutely. Harry? Sadly, yes. Either Bill or Charlie? More likely. But, Fred or George? Never. I still hadn’t forgiven the Universe for that being allowed to transpire.

 

_I may never forgive the Universe for that._

 

Our family came together, just as we always did when it came down to it. We mourned, we celebrated his life, we tried to move forward.

 

We rebuilt. We planned for futures beyond this day.

 

Hermione brought her parents back and helped them to settle back into life in England. I wanted to go with her, but George volunteered to accompany her and I knew he needed to get away from the Burrow for a while. Instead, I stayed and got the shop ready to re-open; I wanted to show George he could depend on me. They were only gone two weeks, but I didn’t sleep more than a couple hours each night without her presence. Her soft breaths had lulled me to sleep for too long and the night air was empty without her. The only things that really kept me going were the couple of letters she had posted to me from Australia. The words didn't matter, it was enough to feel connected to her and know she missed me, too. Harry, Hermione, and I got a flat together in Hogsmeade not too long after she and George returned from collecting her parents. I told myself it was convenient that we were close to the rebuilding efforts. That was true, but I knew I needed to keep my best friends near me- I wouldn’t sleep if I wondered where they were. It took no convincing on their parts, so I told myself they felt the same.

 

It hadn’t been as difficult as I had expected to settle into life as a businessman. I liked the work and felt useful. The rebuilding effort was another story. Sometimes it felt like an exercise in futility, but, finally, the weeks and months of restoring Hogwarts and Hogsmeade began to show. In fact, some areas looked better than I had ever seen them.

 

I spent my nights in bed, counting the hours until sunrise. Some nights I physically exhausted myself beyond reason, just to force my mind to shut off for a while. That worked sometimes, but not as often as I hoped it would. _Bloody ridiculous for thoughts to keep me awake._ More times than I could count, sleep was interrupted by the nightmares that plagued me almost nightly. I could’ve dealt with the stress of the day if I was able to sleep at night. Hell, I probably would’ve been fine without sleeping much at all if the thoughts about the nightmares didn’t obsessively turn about in my head for endless hours throughout the day.

 

I thought about getting some Dreamless Sleep potion, but past experiences with it made me wary. I nearly asked Hermione what to do about it, but then I’d have had to tell her what the nightmares were about. She knew I had nightmares, of course, as she’d wound up in my bedroom several times a week over the past couple months, waking me amidst my nocturnal shouting.

 

I studiously avoided all of her questions about the dreams, letting her assume they were filled with visions of Voldemort and Fred and various battles we had survived. Yeah, I had those dreams, but they weren’t what kept me awake at night. I felt a bit silly, truth be told, about what kept me awake.

 

_Hermione._ I sighed deeply and rolled over in bed. With everything we had seen, everything we went through to survive, it was almost ridiculous that thoughts of a girl kept me awake. These weren't just ordinary thoughts about a girl though. No, these thoughts were more like fears of what I had seen when the locket began speaking to me, fears that I worried could come true. These thoughts kept me tossing and turning hours after I should have been blissfully unaware.

 

Some nights I felt as though I was reliving those horrible moments, like no time had passed since those wretched feelings were intensified within me. I preferred those nights, if I had to dream at all. Other nights, the nightmares didn’t stop at what I had seen that night in the forest. Some of the visions far surpassed the original encounter, showing Hermione and Harry making love, getting married, having children together. Those nights were the worst, because when I woke up I had no proof those things couldn’t happen.

 

Yes, Harry was going out with Ginny again, but that could always change. _Not likely, I'll admit that, but not impossible._ And, yes, Hermione did kiss me in the middle of the battle. However, she hadn’t done so since- not in _that_ way- and I wondered if she only did it so that if either of us died, she wouldn’t have regrets. That seemed a piss-poor reason to snog a bloke, but women, my Hermione in particular, were barmy and I didn’t understand half the things they did. I didn’t hold it against her. In my heart, I had always thought she was too good for me. I could hardly blame her for figuring it out and not wanting to get tied down to me.

 

Still, that didn’t stop my heart from aching at the thought of her going out with another man, possibly creating a life with him instead of with me. It didn’t stop my pulse from racing when she leaned against me on the couch or squeezed my hand for a second. It didn’t stop me from wanking to thoughts of her when she graced me with a sweet kiss goodnight- a peck, really, but I cherished each and every one of those memories. I was grateful for those little moments; I filed them away in my mind, hoarding them as treasures that I could look at but I knew I would never own. I wanted to keep her near me, even if I couldn’t have her.

 

 

Some days, I convinced myself that she could be mine someday. I told myself that my loyalty to my family, instead of immediately following my dreams to become an Auror with Harry, proved to Hermione that I could be depended on- more than I had shown on the hunt. I told myself that the gentle caresses and soft kisses from her were the first step toward something more. I told myself that those nights when I woke up sweaty and crying out, only to find her on my bed and rubbing my back, meant as much to her as they meant to me. I told myself that she wanted to stay in my bed with me on those nights and hold me for hours, not out of pitying me or worrying about me as a friend, but because she needed me as badly as I needed her.

 

Those were the best days, the days when it seemed as though energy was in the air and our potential had yet to be realised. Those days were like the early Spring in Mum’s garden, green shoots just barely peeking out of the dark earth. I loved those days- lived for them, if I was honest with myself. _If only I could hold onto those feelings,_ I told myself, sad that I could not force my mind or heart to retain that confidence in our relationship.

 

Unfortunately, darker, more cynical days almost always followed the cherished days. Hermione would floo to Hogwarts before my eyes and I would be convinced she was hiding something from me. I easily believed her to be seeing some perfect bloke at school, but not telling me to spare my feelings. I spent those days in a daze, positive she would come home and announce she was moving back to Hogwarts, to be with her new boyfriend, presumably. I imagined going to Hogwarts and killing the wanker with my bare hands, but then I thought that perhaps she would be better off without me.

 

Depression dominated me those days, though I was careful to never let it show to Hermione. I didn’t want to give her proof of how unstable I was. I felt as though she already had enough evidence of how unworthy I was of her. Why should I give her any more?

 

The nights following the hard days were truly wretched. I usually went running after dinner on those evenings, going until I didn’t think I could move another step and then turning around to run home. Physically exhausted, I tumbled into the shower and then bed. I prayed for dreamless hours of sleep. Sometimes they came and I’d survive the night. _Thank Merlin!_

 

Other nights, my body jolted awake. If Hermione was there, if she comforted me on those nights, I assumed it was out of pity, not out of love. Some nights I awoke alone, almost thankful I didn’t have to confront the bodily reminder of my nightmares immediately. _Almost_. At those moments, my worst fears surfaced. In the dead of the night, all I had was my doubt and my insecurities. No logic comforted me in those still hours when deep-seated questions about my worth haunted my mind.

 

It kept coming back to that damn locket. The months I wore it felt like a black splotch over my life and memories. Every single fear, every single doubt and question and insecurity invaded each waking moment of my consciousness. It was as if all of my hidden turmoil came out to play when I wore the locket. Those feelings had always been there before, but it was like a light had been shone on them so I could see nothing else. Everything felt more intense than ever before. _And more painful!_

 

I never told Harry or Hermione, mostly for fear they would think I was stupid or that I had gone ‘round the twist, but I had heard voices when I wore that thing. Not _just_ voices in my head, not just the usual combination of thoughts flowing through my head about how unworthy I was to be in our Trio. Those voices I was used to.

 

No, I’d heard Harry’s voice telling me I was the worst best mate he could ever get stuck with, that he wished I was smarter, more brave. I’d heard him wishing I would leave him alone with Hermione, so they could get something productive done without me. I wanted to hate him in those moments, but I couldn’t. Why hate him for what I believed about myself?

 

To make matters worse, I’d heard Hermione’s voice ringing loudly in my head, rattling around in my brain until I couldn’t think straight. She’d told me how disappointed she was in me. She’d told me that it humiliated her for people to think we were a couple- a common misconception at Hogwarts. She’d said that I would never be good enough for her, that she could never fall in love with me. She’d claimed that whatever man won her heart would be a giant among wizards- someone like Harry, not someone like me.

 

_I’ll never be good enough for her._

 

I gave up sleep as a bad job and got up, pulled on running shoes, and started my morning early. As I ran, I thought one thing over and over again: if the damn nightmares would stop, those days could become memories and fade with time. If I kept having the nightmares, I would forever be stuck in those moments. I had to find a way to stop the dreams, to weaken the images from that locket. If I didn’t, I would relive those moments over and over in my dreams and never move on.

 

 

_It's not a memory yet._

 

 

*****

 

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o) 


	2. Chapter 2 - Late Night Musings

  
Author's notes:

Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews so far!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first. ::hugs:: ~Risie 

 

* * *

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 2 (Late Night Musings)

 

*****

 

I rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time, listening to the creaks and groans of the flat. Other than the ordinary noises, it was silent. So, why was I awake in the middle of the night?

 

_Ron._ Thoughts of him often kept me awake. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always the most pleasant of thoughts stealing sleep from me.

 

If someone had told me months ago that my greatest worry would be what to do about my situation with Ron, I would have laughed in their face. If someone had told me we would finally defeat Voldemort and move the Wizarding world forward, I would have fervently prayed they were right. If someone had said that I would make the first move with Ron and he wouldn’t reciprocate, I might have been shyly optimistic that they were wrong.

 

It had been seven months since the defeat of Voldemort. Time felt so skewed for those months; some moments passed by in what seemed like the blink of an eye and I was left wondering where the month went. Other moments passed by agonisingly slowly, to the point it seemed as though one could live several lifetimes between the stretches of days and weeks.

 

In the days immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts, we survived. We paid our respects to the dead; we honoured their lives, their memories, and their legacies. We buried the broken bodies and set free the souls. We mourned; we tried to heal.

 

I tried to be strong for Ron, to let him lean on me. He was having none of that. Strong and stubborn, as always, Ron held his family’s pain, lending himself to whomever needed comfort. I didn’t actually see him cry until after all of the funerals. He was hunched over on his bed, head in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking roughly. A couple sobs escaped his mouth, but he quickly squelched them down. I almost rushed in to comfort him, but a small voice told me to leave him be, to allow him this small privacy to grieve properly. The moments I waited for him in the Burrow’s sitting room felt long and drawn out, much longer than the short time he was taking to himself to mourn his losses. I had to force myself not to run back up the stairs to him. I wanted to hold him to my chest and rock him back and forth. I wanted to soothe him. I wanted… _something_ to do, otherwise I knew I’d go mad with the feelings threatening to burst out of me.

 

He came downstairs and the moment passed. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it as he walked by me; he smiled softly, but I felt the distance between us. Those couple days before I left to get my parents were excruciating. I tried to get him to open up to me. I tried to be understanding and give him the space to grieve without feeling utterly alone. I could literally see the chasm between us growing day by day.

 

The emptiness and dead look in his eyes haunted me. I thought he’d hardly notice when I left for Australia- he’d only said a handful of words to me, to anyone, in days.

 

_But, he did notice!_ I remembered the moment with bittersweet satisfaction.

 

For the entire twelve days I was gone, I dreamt of the embrace he gave me before we left. Part of me wanted a grand gesture, for him to beg me not to go, so I would know he cared. Of course, logically, I knew those things even without a sweeping declaration of his love for me. Nonetheless, I really wanted something I could hold onto instead of logic and reasoning. I wanted proof.

 

The strength of his arms clutching me tightly to his chest was a tactile memory I’d never forget. The feel of his stubble rasping lightly against my cheek and his warm, wet breath ghosting over my ear sent tingles down my spine. I still felt a flush rise on my body when I thought about his softly whispered “I wish you weren’t leaving, I’ll be miserable without you”. The gentle caress of his lips on my cheek and the extra tight squeeze before he let me go were better than any grand gesture he could’ve made in those moments.

 

Of all people, George asked if he could accompany me on my trip. Though we’d never been particularly close, he and I had always got on well together. When he said he needed to get away from it all, I didn’t hesitate. Ron promised to take care of everything and didn’t show the slightest sign of jealousy- which was shocking, to say the least _._

 

George turned out to be a lovely companion, though a bit on the quiet side, and helped far more than I had imagined. Luckily, my parents had stayed right in the house I had planned for them and we didn’t need to search for them. I almost wished we had- I wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences of my actions or the mess I had made, but I couldn’t wait to see them. George silently supported me the entire time, gently prodding me to do what was right and then it was done and I had my family back.

 

My parents were none too thrilled with me, as I’d only partially explained to them how their safety would be achieved. They didn’t know they would forget _I_ existed; otherwise, they never would have let me go through with it. Watching the “childless” couple suddenly tear up and rush at me was one of the best feelings I had experienced in a long time. We- no, I- had a lot of mending to do, but we survived.

 

Though George and I could’ve had them packed in hours, my parents opted to sort their belongings and affairs the Muggle way. They needed time to organise and prepare and say goodbye to their friends and patients. That gave us a bit of free time to explore and relax. I sent Ron several letters, as well as Ginny, knowing full well that a couple wouldn’t arrive until after we returned. George seemed to enjoy the quiet time we spent near Sydney harbour. He talked about Fred some and we laughed about the good times we’d all had together. He told stories about pranks they got up to as children and various things he wished Fred would’ve lived to see.

 

I thought all of those moments we spent talking about Fred were George’s way of trying to say goodbye in his own way. It was strange to be a part of that with him, seeming a bit too intimate for our friendship, and I tried to give him a lot of space. But, he said it was better that way, because he didn’t have to worry about someone else’s grief- not in the same way he would’ve if I’d been a family member. The entire experience was oddly comforting to me. I hadn’t been able to be there for Ron in the way I wanted to, but I was for his brother, something I knew he’d appreciate.

 

I’d somehow convinced myself that when I returned, everything would be different. Ron would’ve had ten days to miss me and realise he couldn’t live without me. I wanted him to scoop me up when I came back and never let me go. I eagerly anticipated his embrace, so sure he would clutch me tightly and finally kiss me again; I wanted it so badly that I could hardly concentrate on anything else. I dreamed of his supple lips pressing against mine, possessing me, showing me that nothing was more important than me, than us.

 

_But, he didn’t kiss me again,_ I thought sadly.

 

Ron did hold me tightly when we came back and told me I was “never allowed to leave again”, but that was it. I waited for the kiss that never came. I waited for him to drag me into the backyard or up to his room for a good snog. Surely, he just didn’t want to do anything in front of his family. That made perfect sense, but the days and weeks stretched on and on and nothing happened.

 

Still, I tried to be thoughtful and understanding- he’d only just lost his brother for Merlin’s sake. I chastised myself for even thinking about something so unimportant at such an inappropriate time.

 

Life moved on as it had the tendency to do. When I told Ron and Harry that I planned to get a flat in Hogsmeade, both jumped at the chance to get one together. We’d all been Apparating daily to the reconstruction efforts and it made good sense to live in the centre of all the changes. More than that, I longed for a place of my own. I was so grateful to have my parents back, but I missed my own space. My boys must’ve felt the same way about the Burrow, because we found a flat and moved in within two weeks of making the decision.

 

In the back of my mind, I thought that this was a first step for me and Ron, a step to something bigger. I made up my mind to drop little hints to Ron so that whenever he _was_ ready, he’d know I was open to anything from him.

 

First, it started with always sitting next to him at meals and whenever we watched something on the telly. I let my thigh rest against his and sometimes I leaned into him a bit or rested my head against his shoulder. Not for long, but always long enough for him to get the point. Extended physical contact between us had only been a recent development in our relationship and I knew he would notice I was initiating it even more than usual. I tried that for a couple weeks, but perhaps I had been too subtle.

 

When that didn’t work, I started squeezing his hand or his knee when something startled me on the telly or if I was trying to catch his attention. One would’ve thought, with the fair amount of touches and caresses and bloody _hints_ I threw at him, he would’ve caught on. But, no. Nothing.

 

So, after nearly two months of that, I decided to step it up even a tad more. Each night before heading off to our respective bedrooms, I hugged both of my boys goodnight. I had been doing that since we went on the hunt together. With Ron, I began to give him short pecks on the cheek, thinking that definitely would get my message across. A few nights of that and I simply couldn’t help myself: I kissed him, right on the lips. It was nothing compared to our first one, very chaste really, but it sent a thrill right through me.

 

The day after, I thought of little besides doing it again. Ron appeared as though he’d looked forward to it as well, because he smiled shyly when I went to hug and kiss him goodnight. Did he reciprocate or take it any further? No, not at all. Still nothing!

 

_Well, not nothing,_ I thought and smiled wryly at the thought.

 

He flushed a deep red and his voice cracked when he said goodnight. Twenty minutes later, I heard him groan my name in the shower. Clearly, I affected him the same way he affected me; the thought made me giddy. Poor man must’ve forgotten to put up a silencing spell. Thank goodness Harry wasn’t there that night- he and Ginny would never have let Ron hear the end of it.

 

Knowing what I’d done to him, I thought my baby steps were finally getting to him. I was trying to be patient, really I was. If I hadn’t been holding myself back, I probably would’ve thrown myself at him again and snogged the life out of him. I knew he was grieving and needed time, but the wait was nearly killing me.

 

Despite everything, Ron didn’t make a move. My birthday came and went with no declarations from him. At that point I had kissed him eight times on the lips. Those were eight opportunities for him to show me he wanted me as I wanted him. I knew he was attracted to me; the shower was proof of that. A horrible thought occurred to me: _what if he just wanted a one-off with me?_

 

I told myself that would explain why he hadn’t made a move yet. He wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship for a pull; he must’ve been holding himself back from me. The logical part of me reminded my impatient heart that he had just lost his brother. He had nobly given up his dream of being an Auror, at least for the short term, to take over for that brother and keep their business from falling apart.

 

The insecurities which always lurked below the surface were only somewhat appeased by my logical offering. I was still a woman, a sensitive one at that, and I had put myself out on a limb. I’d opened my heart and let myself be vulnerable, which was something I had some difficulty with, but it had felt right because it was Ron.

 

I somehow convinced myself to have faith, to be patient, and to give Ron the benefit of the doubt. Ron would never have wanted a one-off with a best mate; he was too loyal and honourable for that. I was ashamed I’d even been capable of thinking that of him. I also told myself to back off a bit, physically, though in reality it was more that I slowed the progression than actually took any steps backward. I contemplated not touching him at all and going back to how we had been, but then I heard Ron crying out in his room. _That_ most certainly hadn’t been pleasure and when I found him he was tangled up in his sheets as much as he was tangled in his nightmares.

 

I climbed onto the bed and woke him up, shushing him and rocking him with my body. He clutched me tightly and tears leaked out of his clenched eyelids, great gasps resounding from his lungs. He held me against his chest, saying my name over and over again. It was heartbreaking. When he finally calmed down and went to lay back in his bed, I started to leave. His whispered “please don’t leave me” and sweaty palm grabbing my arm were all the invitation I needed. Without hesitation, I climbed under the covers and put my arms around him.

 

_He finally needed me,_ I remembered with some relief.

 

Offering him comfort during his nightmares became a routine for us. I may not have gotten exactly what I wanted, but he sometimes let me in. He needed me and that was enough.

 

Amidst this development between us, the rebuilding efforts had moved along much more quickly than anyone anticipated. By late September, Headmistress McGonagall announced that enough of Hogwarts was repaired for students to be allowed to safely return at the beginning of October. Despite the late start, the staff had planned for an entire academic year to take place. I wanted to go back desperately, but what about my life with Harry and Ron? Neither would return and I didn’t want to leave them.

 

I didn’t want to leave Ron in particular. I mentioned it briefly and the look of terror in his eyes spoke volumes. True to his Gryffindor roots, he told me that I should go back if that was what I wanted. He didn’t even look me in the eyes when he said it. I didn’t want to imagine nights when Ron might call out and I wouldn’t be there to catch him, to stop him from falling too far.

 

I confided my fears and anxiety to Headmistress McGonagall, though I left out the parts about comforting Ron in his bed several nights a week, and she surprisingly understood my hesitation.

 

_I always knew there were good reasons for her to be my favourite,_ I thought fondly.

 

She agreed to let me Floo directly to her office before school began each day. Ginny tried to get the same deal, but her parents shot that down, despite her being of age by the time school started. Instead, she was given special permission to study at our flat a couple nights a week. We were in several classes together for the first time and we were both quite excited about it.

 

I thought my arrangement would help matters and I knew it did somewhat, yet some days it was painful to leave. Ron got this look in his eyes, but it was so difficult to pinpoint. It was somewhere between fear and horror, anger and jealousy. I tried to get him to talk about it, but he refused. Seeing Ginny on the nights she came over seemed to smooth things a bit, but the nights I came home later than planned could be torturous. The unspoken accusations clear on his face frustrated me to no end.

 

_He’s so infuriating sometimes!_ I sighed and rolled over again. It seemed silly that I was ruminating about Ron when a million other things could be bothering me more. I could’ve been fixating on my classes and final exams the next week or thinking about how to continue bridging the gap with my parents. I could’ve been thinking about the upcoming Christmas break and how I wanted to spend it. I wasn’t.

 

All I could think about was how to help Ron get beyond these nightmares. He was so stubborn; sometimes I wanted to tear my hair out or grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Problem was I’d probably snog him senseless before I got the chance to shake any sense into him.

 

Tonight was a perfect example of how stubborn he could be when he wanted. In the past couple weeks, I spent countless hours researching treatments for post-traumatic reactions, especially nightmares. I’d spoken extensively with George about the treatment he was receiving at St. Mungo’s. Both through talking to George and my research, I’d found out that the most promising treatment involved removing the memories and working through them in a bit more detached manner. When I suggested it to Ron, he became tight-lipped and short with me. He took off for his nightly run before he even heard all the details. I wanted to know what he was running from, but he wouldn’t tell me even if I asked- he brushed off those questions so quickly and easily these days.

 

I decided to give Ron a bit of space and time to think about it, but I definitely hadn’t given up. I took several deep breaths, stretched, and then pulled myself out of bed. Sleep simply wasn’t going to quiet these ideas running about in my head. A bubble bath seemed a perfect way to start the morning before class, especially since it wasn’t even sunrise yet. I had no idea how long I’d be able to maintain the status quo before something needed to give.

 

_I’ll get through to him yet._

 

*****

 

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)


	3. Chapter 3 - Running While Standing Still

  
Author's notes: Thank you to everyone who has left truly lovely reviews! I appreciate each and every one of them and I'm very excited at how well the story is being received. I hope you enjoy this Ron chapter (yay!) and I'd love to hear your thoughts. ::big hugs to you all:: ~Risie :o)  


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Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 3 (Running While Standing Still)

 

*****

 

_In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4. In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4._

 

I counted as I breathed deeply, forcing my body to adjust to my faster stride. I usually went for a run every night after dinner, but some mornings I started the day with one as well. It felt natural to me, as though I’d always been putting myself through such paces. Running quieted my mind like nothing else I had found, not even Hermione. Sometimes being with her made the voices and insecurities floating about in my head seem louder than ever.

 

Running seemed to help me sort things out, even when I didn’t realise I’d been thinking or trying to work out a problem. When I felt the smooth road beneath my feet and my heart thudding deep within my chest, I didn’t worry about what might happen if I stopped. I didn’t think about my fears that a nameless disaster might strike and take away what little happiness I had been able to carve out for myself. I didn’t obsess over every small detail or comment that crossed my mind, but I somehow found a way to let that all go with the air I was expelling out of my body.

 

I focused on my breath. I focused on the ground. I focused on what I could control. _Seems like not much right now,_ I thought wryly, frustrated that I couldn’t control my own mind for what seemed like frighteningly long periods of time.

 

I mulled over what Hermione began to tell me the night before. She had researched and supposedly found a solution to stop the nightmares. But, what did this brilliant treatment include? I had to take out the memories, of course. That might not have been so bad if this irrational fear didn’t grip me every time I thought of it. If I kept the thoughts inside me, they would be hidden from the world. If I pulled them out- well, that felt as though I was unleashing them into a world that could make them true. If I kept them inside, they were safe. As strange as it sounded, even to my own ears, letting them out felt like setting myself up for the visions to somehow happen.

 

_But, they could all happen anyway,_ a small voice that sounded awfully like Hermione reminded me. Damn, but I hated it how she managed to sneak her way into my head and heart. Except I didn’t hate that at all, which was a bit infuriating and confusing.

 

As the first rays of morning sun peaked over the horizon, I rounded the corner and our flat came into view. I slowed to a walk and my heart began to calm. I loved this time of morning when the world was still quiet. Most of the time I missed it, because I preferred to lie in a bit more than I probably should. However, the days when I saw the sunrise made me feel uncharacteristically optimistic about the future- funny how the steadfastness of nature could do what so many other things could not.

 

Upon entering our flat, I was greeted with a most welcome sight: Hermione, with her hair messily pulled back, was at the table munching on a piece of toast while she read the morning newspaper. It was such a homey scene and my heart clenched in want, as though that would somehow make it happen. Moments like these blurred the boundaries of reality and desire and possibility and my mind created images of lazy mornings and red-haired babies. _Where did that come from?_

 

Sometimes it seemed as if all I had to do was walk over and kiss her. Simple as that and she would be mine. _If only it was that easy_ , I thought, but I knew it wasn’t.

 

She chewed lightly on her lower lip and I tried to stifle a groan from escaping, ‘tried’ being the operative word. _Merlin, does she have any idea how sexy she is?_ I’d often wondered about that, unsure how she could possibly be unaware of the fact.

 

She glanced up sharply when she heard my groan, but then she smiled softly at me. It was one of those smiles, the kind where she’d quirk the right side of her mouth and she somehow looked both calm and mischievous. She was trying to kill me; there was no question about it.

 

“Something wrong, Ron?” she asked, probably because I’d groaned and then stood there staring at her like an idiot.

 

“Just tired is all. Probably ran too long this morning,” I responded, hoping that she believed me, though this little voice cropped up again and pointed out it might not be so bad for her to know I was mesmerised by her. I ignored the voice; it was getting a bit too loud for my tastes lately.

 

She narrowed her eyes at me a bit, but then averted her gaze from mine. She made a non-committal noise and turned back to her morning paper. For some reason, the small movement annoyed me deeply. She was holding herself back from me- something she never used to do before and I decided that I hated it.

 

“Something you want to say, Hermione?”

 

“Not at the moment, Ronald.” She didn’t even look up when she responded.

 

“So now you’re holding your tongue _and_ lying to me?”

 

“Excuse me?” She finally glanced my way and a flash of annoyance crossed her features. Not exactly what I wanted, but it was a connection instead of a retreat.

 

“You’re losing your touch. Since when do you shy away from saying anything you want to me?”

 

“I’ve never… I’m not shying away,” she said, but much more softly than her earlier words.

 

“You are,” I said with no accusation. “You have been. I thought you- we seemed to be- but, then- Fuck! I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” I hadn’t felt quite this flustered and tongue-tied in a while.

 

“I’m sorry, Ron, I’m just- well, I wanted to know what you’re running from.”

 

“Nothing,” I said quickly, probably much too quickly. I didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not at this particular moment. I knew I needed to say something, but words failed to come to mind. She folded up her paper and rinsed her plate in the sink before looking sadly at me and leaving the room.

 

_Shite! What just happened?_ I bolted from the kitchen and called her name, thankful when she turned around and looked at me.

 

_Oh, right, I have to say something._ I mentally smacked myself for not thinking of that before I called out to her. _Say something, you berk!_

 

“I run because it’s the only time it doesn’t hurt,” I said, surprising myself with the honest statement, and I saw a shift in her gaze.

 

She started to walk toward me and I forgot how to breathe for a few moments before drawing in a mouthful of air. She stopped a couple inches from me and tilted her head to the side as though she was working out some great problem. She seemed to be breathing awfully hard, but I didn’t have time to contemplate that when she whispered something to herself and shook her head.

 

“Does it hurt here?” she asked and placed a hand on my chest.

 

I nodded and closed my eyes. I wrenched them open a moment later when I felt her mouth place a long, warm kiss directly over my heart. I was positive she could hear how loudly it was thudding against my ribs.

 

She looked up and then placed a hand on either side of my head. I swallowed roughly as she pulled my face closer to hers.

 

“What about here?” she asked and rubbed her thumbs over my temples in slow strokes.

 

My eyes fluttered shut and she must have taken that for a yes, because I felt her lean into me and rise onto her tiptoes. She gently placed a kiss on my right temple before turning my head and doing the same to the left one. My heart felt full to bursting until she let me go and stepped back.

 

“Hermione?”

 

“Mum always says that kisses make everything better.”

 

_Bloody genius that is._ It had never felt quite like that when my Mum did it.

 

“I don’t know why, but I know it’s hard for you to talk to me lately.”

 

“It’s not you, I-” I didn’t want her to think there was something wrong with her, instead of something wrong with me.

 

“It’s alright, really it is. But, will you promise me something? Will you talk to George today at the shop?”

 

I nodded at her, overcome with her quiet show of acceptance that I couldn’t share my problem with her, not yet. I pulled her to my chest and hugged her tightly. Neither of us said a word, content to stand there holding each other. I rested my head against her cheek and bit my lip to restrain myself from kissing her ear. There should be nothing sexy about an ear, but I wanted to suck the lobe into my mouth. I almost did, but the thought of losing myself in her only to lose her to someone else held me back. She was letting me hold her now, but would she always? When would she get bored of me or realise I didn’t deserve her? Worse yet, if I had her, would she stay with me out of pity instead of love? That was something I’d never be able to stand. I loosened my arms and pulled back from her. The space didn’t make me feel any better.

 

She smiled at me; it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stared at my lips for a brief moment before squeezing my hand and turning away. I couldn’t help but think I was hurting her by not kissing her. It was almost too much to hope for.

 

She was gone by the time I showered and dressed. I thought about going to the castle, but as I could find no other reason than “I want to” I decided against it. _Crazy idea, anyway._

 

George was, uncharacteristically, already there when I got to the store. He clapped me on the back and handed over a cup of coffee as he passed me on his way to the workroom. He seemed like he was in a good mood and I felt guilty for even thinking about talking to him. There was no need to upset him with my pathetic nightmares about a woman when he probably had his own nightmares over Fred dying. _But, I promised her,_ I reminded myself.

 

I walked into the workroom and started grabbing products which needed to be restocked on the shelves. After restocking and tidying, we still had almost an hour until the shop opened and I ran out of excuses.

 

“George, you got a minute?” I asked somewhat cautiously, not wanting to sound upset or desperate.

 

“Always, Ronniekins,” he said and turned around with a smile, which only made me feel guiltier for bothering him.

 

“George, the thing is, I’ve been having- I hate to bring it up but I promised Hermione and--” I felt like a babbling fool, which I thought I was anyway, but there was no need to act it. “This is so stupid!- why is this so hard?”

 

“Ron?” George was looking at me expectantly, an encouraging smile on his face. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Actually, no. I’ve been having nightmares and they won’t go away and Hermione reckons I ought to talk to you about them. A bit stupid, yeah?”

 

“Not at all,” he said easily and waved a hand at me to sit on the workbench. “To tell the truth, I already knew you were having problems. Hermione’s mentioned it to me a few times. She’s worried about you.”

 

“I know she is,” I said with a sigh.

 

“You wanna talk about it then?”

 

“Not particularly, but she thinks I should.”

 

“That’s not what she told me.”

 

“Really?” That news surprised me. Hermione always wanted to talk everything to death. It was one of the reasons I hadn’t wanted to share the dreams with her; I thought she wouldn’t stop until she’d analysed every single little detail. She was surprising me left and right these days.

 

“Well, of course she thinks you should talk about it- this is Hermione after all. That wasn’t her main goal though. Didn’t she tell you about what I’ve been doing?”

 

“Um…” I searched my memory and came up completely empty. “No. Should she have?”

 

“Somehow I thought she did. Not important. I’ve been seeing a healer at St. Mungo’s who’s been helping me with the same problems.”

 

“Oh, _that_. Yeah, she told me about that last night. I don’t wanna go to a healer over this.”

 

“Nobody’s suggesting that, Ron,” George said and looked at me funny.

 

“Sounds like you both are.” _Weren’t they?_

 

“Did you listen to her, or did you shut her out before she got the chance? I think you don’t have the whole story.” He stood up and walked over to a tall cabinet, pulling it open before he turned around. “I bought this for myself a couple of months ago, but I don’t think I need it as much as you do.”

 

“I don’t understand-”

 

“If you don’t wanna go to a healer, then I’ll show you how to do it yourself. It won’t be exactly the same, but we figured it would still help. Hermione said she will help, too, if you want.”

 

He pulled out a stone basin with a shimmering, swirling surface. Lowering his wand, an ethereal strand wrapped around it. As George lifted the strand out and replaced it back in his head, the surface of the Pensieve became calm and clear.

 

_This is what she wanted me to do?_

 

“You know how to remove a memory, yeah? Well, bring to mind several memories that are connected and pull them out one at a time. Add them each to the Pensieve and you’ll be able to view them in the order you put them in. My healer said I needed to be desensitised to what happened to Fred before I could heal. Each time I watched the memories with my healer, he helped me to find associations and logic and, ultimately, peace. I’ll never really get over Fred being gone and I’ll always feel this hole in me. But, I’ve come a long way in learning to live my life to honour his memory.”

 

I didn’t know what to say. I sat and listened to everything George said, trying to take it all in. Would this really work? Did I really have a right to be upset over some nightmares when George had lost his twin? Could this actually help me to move on and stop being haunted by the past? I wanted so badly to let down my guard and take the leap of faith with Hermione.

 

“Ron?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want to try. I’ll give it a shot tonight when I get home.”

 

“Why don’t you go back to your flat and get started now? It might be better with nobody around.”

 

“But, the Christmas rush- we’ve only got a couple more weeks- this can wait until tonight.” I knew it was a poor excuse, but it was the one I came up with. I wasn’t ready to confront myself yet.

 

“Do it now, Ron. Seriously, mate. I know it’s scary, but you gotta do it. Tell you what: why don’t you take this home and start pulling the worst of them out? I’ll give you a Floo after we open, when we start to get busy. That way you won’t have to think about it all day long.”

 

I didn’t give myself a chance to argue, nodded roughly, and grabbed the basin. A quick “see you later” and I was at the flat, clutching it tightly to me. I called out to make sure I was alone, knowing full well that Hermione was at Hogwarts and Harry was probably at the Ministry.

 

Before I could think too much about it or change my mind, I called the worst thoughts and memories and nightmares to the front of my mind. _Maybe when this is over, they’ll actually feel like memories and start to fade with time._ One by one, I brought the strands from my temple to the surface of the Pensieve. Each one I added churned and swirled a bit before circling with the rest.

 

The odd, icy sensation I got when I removed the shiny wisps became strangely soothing. That made sense in a way, because with each removal, emotional weight was being lifted out of my body. I had a vague recollection of what occurred, but the emotional and psychological charge had been swept away with the details that were no longer ingrained in my mind. It was an addicting sensation to feel so free.

 

The underlying insecurities were still there, of course, because those were a long-standing part of _me_ , not just a part of what the locket created in me. The cutting and biting remarks that fed the insecurities were gone though, and the difference was remarkable. I had forgotten what it felt like to use reason when I felt particularly down. I had forgotten to trust my best mate, to rely on what I knew- that Harry would never betray me by leaving my sister and taking up with Hermione. I had forgotten how to call to mind the examples and proof of Hermione’s affection, to drown out and overwhelm the horrible, niggling feelings of doubt. The feeling was amazing.

 

This feeling made me want Hermione to be home so I could throw caution to the wind and snog her until we were both breathless. I knew that wasn’t right. This was a temporary fix and I needed to work through and re-incorporate these ideas before I could even dream of trying to make it work with Hermione.

 

George called from the floo and I put the Pensieve on my dresser. I went to the shop and, despite the busy day due to the Christmas sales, I felt calmer than I had in almost a year. It was a relief to find myself again.

 

_Now I_ _remember what I’m working for._

 

*****

 

Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)


	4. Chapter 4 - Discovery

  
Author's notes:

Wow, thank you so much to everyone who is reading and to the lovely folks who are leaving reviews! I really appreciate all of the support on this fic- it's been very special to me. This one's a Hermione chapter and one I think many of you have been waiting for, so I hope it delivers. Enjoy! ~Risie :o)

 

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Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 4 (Discovery)

 

*****

 

The day passed by with agonising slowness and all I could think about was how bold I'd been with Ron. I worried that I had gone too far in the morning. Hadn't I just told myself to give him some space? Of course, I'd been telling myself that same thing for months, though it appeared I had absolutely no ability to stop myself at this point. I typically lasted only a few days before I found myself falling into him again; the undeniable pull he had on me sucked me in again and again.

 

_Did I push too far this time?_

 

It was, frankly, amazing that I'd pushed myself that far at all. The advances and hints and various ways I'd put my heart out to Ron were fairly uncharacteristic of me. I wasn't used to exposing myself so many times without receiving some kind of feedback. I didn't mind putting my brain on the line whenever it was called for; I had certainly excelled on that for many years. That wasn't to say I didn't worry about being wrong or have overwhelming anxiety about looking foolish- I definitely did. However, I studied and revised enough to be reasonably confident about my intelligence.

 

But, this _situation_ with Ron was entirely out of my comfort zone. There weren't enough books and revision schedules in the world to make my endeavours seem easier nor were there teachers' approving nods to reassure me of impending success. I wanted guarantees after walking out on a limb repeatedly; there were none for me. _I feel positively naked when I keep offering myself and get nothing back from him!_ And yet, the feel of his arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night and the sound of his heart pounding steadily beneath my ear were enough for now.

 

I went home immediately after classes were finished for the day, knowing I needed to find a way to concentrate on my studies. After all, our exams before the Christmas break were next week and I needed to get my priorities straight. I wondered when it was that I had lost all self-control and simply given up a life that didn't revolve entirely around thinking about Ron, about his every move, about his thoughts and feelings, about his pains. Surely, as I had told myself multiple times throughout the day, there were more important things to study than small clues about what Ron was dreaming about and what he was running from, but my mind stubbornly refused to be disciplined. I contemplated Flooing directly to the shop to ask George if Ron had talked to him about the treatment, but I didn't want to bother him. He had enough to do trying to keep up with early December shoppers and dealing with the first Christmas without Fred. Besides, I trusted Ron to keep his promise- maybe not today, but eventually.

 

_This is hopeless! I won't get anything done right now,_ I thought, a bit disgusted with my inability to focus on Advanced Arithmancy. Instead, I decided to get a bit of housework done, since I knew I wouldn't be able to do any revising right after a full day of classes and wandering thoughts. As it was Thursday, I gathered my clothes hamper and did a laundering spell on its contents. A swift flick of my wand and everything but my undergarments were dried. Another flick and the clothes folded themselves. I quickly sorted the newly cleaned clothes and put them away in the wardrobe before conjuring a line in my loo and pinning up my bras and knickers. Normally, I would do my entire load of laundry the Muggle way- the long way, Ron would say. Today, I didn't want to waste time. I could've let the week go by without doing laundry, but, sadly, my weekly routine was so deeply ingrained in me that I sometimes wondered what spontaneous looked like.

 

I went to Harry's room and repeated my steps, except I didn't bother to sort out his pants. Boys, I had found out, really didn't care if those were washed and dried by hand. Actually, my boys didn't really care if their clothes were washed at all, so I ended up doing it for them most of the time. It bothered me more than it did them and I was sure that they took advantage of that fact. To be fair, Ron did almost all of the cooking and Harry did the majority of the other household chores so the arrangement worked out equally for each of us.

 

After doing Harry's laundry, I headed to Ron's room to do the same for him. Upon entering the slightly cluttered room, my eyes were drawn to the Pensieve sitting on the bureau by the bed. _So, he did talk to George after all!_ The idea that Ron had done what I asked, despite it probably being the last thing he wanted to do, made me smile instinctively. Merlin, did I love the man, infuriating though he was at times. I briefly wondered why he'd already brought the Pensieve home before it occurred to me that he might be using it even as I stood there.

 

The laws of time and space that simply didn't seem to exist where Pensieves were concerned had never failed to fascinate me. How was it possible that this moderately sized basin could hold so many memories, full of colours and details and significance? Even more amazingly, how did the magic work to transport entire bodies into its depths and suspend them there comfortably within a memory? The entire concept was mind-boggling, really, and I reminded myself to research the concept as soon as I had the chance.

 

Those thoughts only went through my mind for seconds before I poked my head through the surface. I gripped the sides of the basin tightly to make sure I didn't tumble in and tried to look around to spot Ron. Everything was quite dim and I had a hard time making anything out. I opened my mouth to call out to him when Harry ran by and then Ron did the same a moment later. The surroundings seemed a bit brighter, but I knew it was just my eyes adjusting to the amount of light. I recognised the Forest of Dean and, though I knew it was wrong, I let myself fall entirely into the memory.

 

_This is what's been giving him nightmares?_

 

I didn't understand. According to both Ron and Harry, the worst that happened was the locket screaming at them before Ron destroyed it. Well, _that_ and it tried to strangle Harry when he dove into the pool to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor, but Ron had saved him just in time. _Why would he have nightmares about that night?_ If anything, after hearing them recount the tale, I'd thought they had gotten off easy. Dumbledore had nearly lost a hand when he destroyed the ring; Ron had seen what happened when I went to destroy the cup- screaming was the least of my concerns. I was still haunted by what had transpired in the chamber and even more mortified by the thought that Ron had been there to witness everything. Luckily, he hadn't brought it up since.

 

Though I hadn't seen Ron yet, I was careful to be quiet. I didn't want him to catch me in the Pensieve with him, if he was indeed there. My conscience told me to leave, told me that what I was doing was the worst sort of invasion of privacy, but my curiosity had the strongest hold over me. _I'll only stay for a moment,_ I justified to myself. I ignored the niggling feeling gnawing away at me.

 

I saw Ron and Harry arguing somewhat over who should stab the Horcrux, followed by Ron's exclamation of being more affected by the locket than Harry or I were. I had never doubted that statement was true. It was one of the things I told myself repeatedly when he was gone. I’d needed to say it over and over, to let it penetrate deep into my heart, because it was the only thing which allowed me to hold onto the hope that Ron couldn't have helped leaving us- leaving me. I’d needed to believe that the locket forced him to go, that the locket had taken him to his knees. Believing he had chosen his comfort level over helping us to destroy Voldemort was simply not an option. Still, it was nice to know, all these months later, that my faith in him had been entirely correct. _Always loyal, my Ron._

 

My attention was brought back to the memory unfolding by Harry yelling at Ron to destroy the locket while he stood transfixed. _Is that me?_ It certainly looked like me, though it really didn't at the same time. I looked more beautiful than I knew myself to be, but more cold somehow, more callous. The litany of insults and jabs my likeness said to Ron made me cringe inside. The horrible stabs Harry's likeness threw at him made my eyes tear and sting. These, I guessed, were things Ron had already been feeling inside, but the locket intensified them all to the point that Ron probably couldn't tune them out. What I had experienced in the chamber suddenly seemed so insignificant when compared with this. My fears and worries and hidden nightmares had come to the surface, but the experience had been, thankfully, briefly. The cup had zeroed in on every single insecurity, any little chip in my armour, and left me feeling like a shell of myself until Ron's voice broke through and helped me to destroy it. If I had felt so horrible and desolate after only holding it and experiencing that for moments, I shuddered to imagine what Ron must have gone through. That locket had laid over his heart for long stretches of time while we tried to figure out how to destroy it. _How awful for him!_ My heart tightened at the thought of how badly Ron must've suffered in those months before he'd finally taken the last he could handle.

 

The horrifying images protruding from the locket wrapped themselves in a passionate embrace and my heart literally ached for Ron. The look on his face was heartbreaking. It was as though the images were giving him a confirmation of his worst fears coming true. Sadly, this wasn't the first time I'd seen that look on Ron's face. I'd seen it a couple times when I stepped into the floo on my way to Hogwarts, but I never knew what to make of it. I still didn't know what to make of it, though I had a couple guesses.

 

Relief flooded through me when Ron's vision finally stabbed the locket and it was over. The relief was short-lived, however, only to be replaced by confusion at the next memory that began to play. Images passed before my eyes, but I could hardly believe them: myself in a white dress, pledging my love to Harry as Ron looked on stonily; Harry wearing a simple gold wedding band, holding a small girl with curly hair closely to his chest as he rocked her to sleep; myself tending to a small boy with bright green eyes, kissing his head tenderly; Harry making love to me in a bed with deep red satin sheets; so many milestones of a relationship that was never meant to be. The images were jarring, not something I had ever wanted or needed, but here they were as though they had seen the light of day. It was strange to have my life pass before my eyes, but it wasn't my life at all- it wasn't anything I had lived through or dreamt of or planned for my future.

 

_This is what Ron has nightmares about?_ After everything he and I had been through together, he still thought I would choose Harry if given the chance. He still saw himself as less worthy of love. I desperately wished he was able to see himself through my eyes, to know how deeply my love for him ran within my soul- maybe then he wouldn't be so fearful about this scene being the eventual outcome for giving me his heart. Maybe then he wouldn't be worried about not being enough, about me not loving him more than anyone in the world.

 

I felt warm tears running down my cheeks and reached up to wipe them away, overcome by what these memories meant for Ron. He wasn't sure what I felt for him, as least not deep in his heart. I was sure he knew that I loved him, but knowing something intellectually and feeling it deep within the soul were two entirely different things. As much as I had put myself out to Ron for the taking, I'd only given him hints. I'd never actually made any offers; I'd never actually said he was the only one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I'd never been direct with him about our relationship, instead waiting for it to develop organically.

 

_Clearly, that's not going to be enough._

 

I needed to leave, suddenly feeling more ashamed of my intrusion of Ron’s privacy than I had before. My damned curiosity had grabbed hold of me again, but I didn’t feel satisfied. He didn’t deserve to be vulnerable and exposed without his permission and my stomach twinged with the thought of what I had done. I brought myself out of the Pensieve, not wanting to see whatever other memories might play before my eyes, and sat on his bed. It was painful to even watch the visions and I couldn't begin to imagine what Ron must have felt like, being plagued with them day after day. It was no wonder Ron had been withdrawal and sullen on the hunt. It was no wonder Ron hadn't made a move to show me his feelings. I could hardly blame him after what I had seen of his memories and nightmares, which I imagined was only a part of what Ron had flowing through his head.

 

I vowed to myself to show him, really show him how much I loved him. I promised myself I would prove to him how much I wanted him.

 

_Now I only need the courage to do it._

 

*****

 

Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)


	5. Chapter 5 - Taking a Leap

  
Author's notes:

Thank you to everyone who continues to read and for all of the really lovely reviews! I cherish each and every one of them. We're back to Ron for this chapter and then there's only two more chapters after this. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. I'd love to hear what you thought! ~Risie :o)

 

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Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 5 (Taking a Leap)

 

*****

 

_Amazing what a difference it makes!_

 

I spent the day feeling as though I was walking on a cloud. I couldn't believe how light I felt without those images running amok in my head at all times throughout the day. The feelings behind the images and nightmares were still there, of course, but they seemed so much easier to keep a lid on. I wondered if I would feel the same way once I looked at them again. At this point, I only had a vague recollection of what the memories and nightmares had been about. I almost preferred for them to stay out of my brain forever, but that didn't seem right either. Those thoughts, whether I wanted to admit it or not, were a part of me and had changed me. Taking them out permanently wouldn't mean they never happened. It would only mean that I was confused and ignorant about parts of my life. Permanently removing the memories felt like turning my back on trying to move forward.

 

Still, it was tempting to think I could feel this light without having to work through the emotional upheaval the images caused. _It's too tempting, too addicting_ , I thought. It was like coming out of a fog, truly feeling like myself again for the first time in a year. Without the added weight, logic had a chance to surface. I felt as though anything was possible again, especially making Hermione mine.

 

The nightmares and the residue of Voldemort's evil soul had made me question every comment, every glance, every touch- and Hermione had been very generous with all of those lately. I had enjoyed every one of them, no question about it, but later it felt like I couldn't hold on to the excitement and contentment. Before taking the memories out, I’d felt as though I was a bottomless pit, wanting everything Hermione gave me and more, but completely unable to give anything back to her. What if any affection I showed her was tainted with the ugliness that had been inside me? I’d never taken the chance, for fear I would ruin any potential we had together.

 

_But, I don't have to worry about that right now!_

 

After leaving the shop, I decided to go home. One day of not going to help with the rebuilding efforts was understandable. I flicked my wand and sent my Patronus to make my apologies that I wouldn't be there. I knew I should start to sort through the images in the Pensieve as soon as I got home, but the thought of tainting such a wonderful feeling so soon after I regained it was impossible to fathom. No, the day had basically begun with Hermione kissing away some of my pain and all I could focus on was getting back to her.

 

I Apparated directly to my bedroom, where the sight of Hermione sitting on my bed took me off guard for a moment. She was sitting and staring off in a daze, apparently lost in thought. Her presence caused a stirring deep within my heart- almost like an ache, but it wasn't so much pain as it was longing. She’d been doing that to my heart a lot lately. I wondered if she was as completely oblivious to it as she seemed or if she somehow sensed how she made me feel in those moments. Currently, her total unawareness of my presence left me with a rare opportunity to study her for a moment. Her perpetually ink-stained, slender fingers were folded loosely on her lap. Her hair was neatly plaited and tied with a ribbon. The ribbon caught my eye. It was such a simple, yet feminine touch that perfectly summed up Hermione: there was always something special, as long as you took the time to look.

 

_Don't just stand here and stare at her! Say something_ , I demanded inwardly to propel myself forward.

 

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" She startled slightly before turning her head and giving me a small smile. She said nothing so I assumed she hadn't heard what I said. "Are you alright?"

 

"I... Yes, I'm just… tired. I must've sat down and lost track of the time... How was your day?"

 

"Good. Busy, but good," I said and sat next to her. I itched to hold her, though that was nothing new.

 

"Don't you have to go to Hogsmeade?"

 

"I don't have to be anywhere but here."

 

I put my arm around her shoulders, enjoying the feel of being able to initiate anything at all with her. She leaned her head against my shoulder and we sat there quietly for a while, not needing words to fill the silence. It was as perfect a moment as possible and I was surprised at the unexpectedness of being able to find it in such a simple gesture. The steady rise and fall of her chest lulled me into relaxation, such a wonderful place to be with her. Too soon, I felt her take a deep breath and stretch lightly before standing up. I wanted to pull her back down and hold her so tightly that she could never leave. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the life out of her. I wanted so many things, but I simply didn't know where to start.

 

"I see George gave you his Pensieve to use," Hermione said and broke me out of my thoughts.

 

"Yeah, good of him to offer. I started to use it this morning before work."

 

"Already? Wow, I'm impressed!"

 

"Not really. I took out a bunch of stuff floating around in my head, but I didn't go back to look at any of it."

 

"Oh. Well, don't let me keep you. I only came in here to get your laundry, but I can do it later," she said and turned to leave.

 

"Please don't go," I said and took a step closer to her. _This is it! Do it,_ I told myself.

 

"Why?" she asked hesitantly, but she turned back around. She hadn't noticed my step toward her and ended up inches from me.

 

"Because if you leave, I'll lose the bollocks to do this-" I said before I closed the gap between us, my eyes automatically slipping shut.

 

She didn't respond immediately and for a moment I was sure I'd made a horrible mistake. I started to pull away, but she wrapped her hand around my neck and pulled me back to her and I was lost. Our lips were still inexperienced with each other, but what we lacked in history, we more than made up for with our mutual enthusiasm. Her mouth was warm and wet against mine, her hands soft and slow. I wrapped one hand behind her head to hold her to me, while the other grasped her waist and brought her with me to the bed. I sat down and she followed eagerly, her lips never leaving mine. When my tongue touched hers, she whimpered into my mouth and I was sure I could die a happy man. This was both everything I remembered and entirely new and exciting. Our first kiss had been passionate, desperate, years of longing colliding in one irreplaceable moment. Now, _this_ kiss, this was like coming home, as though I'd already been here and had been trying to get back to my sanctuary from the storm.

 

My neck started to ache slightly and I pulled back to stretch. Her lips and cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. _I did that to her,_ I realised with pride. I thought she had never looked more beautiful. The moment could've been horribly awkward, with me trying to stammer out everything I was feeling or her trying to talk everything to death, but it wasn't. I smiled at her and she smiled back and ran her hand up and down my arm- no words were necessary.

 

"It's about damn time," she exclaimed and I threw my head back and laughed heartily. She was right- it _was_ about damn time! She laughed with me and we tumbled back to the bed, our bodies shaking with happiness and relief. I reached out to cup her cheek and my thumb grazed her skin over and over again.

 

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

 

"You're worth the wait, Ron."

 

There was nothing to do but kiss her again. What else could I possibly do when such sweet words came out of her mouth? She met me halfway and I marvelled that my earlier thought had been correct: all I had to do was go for it and kiss her. We broke apart and scooted to the head of the bed so our heads rested against the pillows. This had to be a dream; it felt too good to be true. I couldn't stop looking at her and I never wanted to stop touching her.

 

"I love you, Ron. You know that, don't you?" My heart tightened a bit and a delicious warmth spread through my body. She'd said the words before, we both had, but I'd never really believed she'd meant them- not how I’d always wanted her to mean them. And yet she gave them to me easily, trusting, as though there was nothing else she could have possibly said.

 

"I think I finally do know- and I love you, too," I said. Saying those three words back to her was like letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. It should have been scary being that honest about my feelings with her, but it wasn't. I should have freaked out at how quickly we’d gotten to this point together, but I didn’t. I just closed my eyes and pulled her to me, not willing to let the moment end. I knew she needed to study for her exams and I should have put the Pensieve to use, but all I could think was how tired I was and how warm she made me. The feel of her chest rising and falling against my own lulled me to sleep.

 

When I woke, she was gone and I already missed her. I looked out my window and saw it was dark out, but not a pitch-black night sky yet. I'd probably only slept for an hour or so, though my body felt more rejuvenated that it usually did after a full night's rest. It seemed like forever since I had been able to sleep peacefully and to awaken feeling refreshed. I contemplated trying to go back to sleep, but my stomach rumbled loudly and I wanted to see Hermione, so that was all the push I needed to get out of bed.

 

She was, of course, at the kitchen table doing her revisions. All of her papers and books were spread in front of her and she was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. It reminded me of happy times with her and Harry in the castle, studying near the Common Room fireplace. _Thank Merlin I don't have to study anymore!_ I placed a hand on the back of her chair and one on the table and leaned my head down to kiss her forehead. She tipped her head up and I felt her lips curve into a smile against my lips. Was it really only this morning that she'd fled from this room with that sad, defeated look in her eyes? Our earlier experience in my bedroom was exactly what I'd needed to start taking my life back. I couldn't have gone on much longer, as miserable as I was, and avoiding the issue wasn't going to solve it. I was so grateful I’d started to move forward, especially where things with Hermione were concerned.

 

I sat on the chair next to her and wanted to tell her some of what the dreams had been about, how deeply I had been affected, but I found that I couldn't. As it was supposed to, the process of extracting the memories left me unable to grasp at anything more than wisps of thoughts. It was like trying to hold water in your bare hands: a steady trickle pulled it all away until mere remnants were left. Much as the memories and nightmares had brought me misery, I felt oddly displaced by the empty spaces in my mind they used to fill.

 

"Thank you," I finally said once I realised I could think of nothing else to say. She quirked her eyebrow at me, silently questioning the comment. "For researching, for talking to George- I don't know how long I would've been like that if you hadn't," I said to clarify.

 

"You're welcome... but it's not over yet, Ron. George was up and down quite a bit when he first started his treatment. He's better now, but the beginning was really difficult for him."

 

"I know. But I'm going to do it. I don't want to give that bastard another bit of me."

 

"Good," she said and flashed a brilliant smile at me. "Hungry?"

 

I gratefully accepted the sandwich she passed over and asked her about school. She talked about her various subjects and how nice it was for her to have Ginny in most of them. I was glad for that as well- she was probably better company than Harry and I had been, or at least more independent than we had been. They had got permission for Ginny to leave Hogwarts for the weekend and Hermione seemed genuinely excited about it.

 

Eventually, I left to let her do her work and went for my evening run. _In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4. In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4._ The smooth road still soothed me, but now I wasn't running away from the pain; I was running to feel even more alive. I couldn't believe how much my perspective had changed in a day- how my entire life had really changed today. It was a heady thought.

 

Hermione was already asleep by the time I got back to our flat. The slight disappointment I felt did nothing to diminish how wonderful the day had been. That night I slept without fear, without insecurities and doubts keeping me awake, without my imagination creating a future for Hermione that didn't include me.

 

The next several days were much harder for me though, because I began to work through memories and imaginings that taunted me. With each strand of memory I reviewed in the Pensieve, lost feelings and thoughts again raced to the surface. They were familiar, but unwelcome. I'd had a taste of my life without the well of dark feelings and I wanted that peace back. Some moments I watched over and over and over again until I knew every corner and crevice in the image. I wanted to desensitise myself to their power. I analysed every small detail, showing myself how my mind had created impossible scenarios using crazy logic. This was the sort of thing Hermione would have been perfect at if I had been able to stomach the thought of having her help me.

 

Each time I watched the memory of what happened in the forest and tried to take it back into my mind, I felt as though I was taken over again. I might as well have been soaking wet and clutching the sword- the thoughts were still that vivid and raw. I took that glistening strand out of my mind repeatedly, unable to tolerate it yet. Instead, I focused on the other images I'd had nightmares about. The whole process was making me mad with the consistent ups and downs. After a few days of it, I'd managed to reincorporate a lot of the bits and pieces of memory back into my mind with few fears and insecurities resurfacing.

 

Despite logically knowing many of the insecurities I felt weren't based in reality and would probably never happen, I distanced myself from Hermione. The desire to keep what we had pure and untarnished led me to pull away from her. I couldn't stand the thought that my mind and the remnants of that damn Horcrux might ruin what was blossoming between us. I knew I was being thick- I was doing it on purpose. It seemed better to be safe than to be sorry later.

 

Hermione, being the brilliant but stubborn woman that she was, refused to be pushed away. She said she loved me and knew what I was going through was difficult. She said there wasn't a chance in the world she'd let me think I would ever be alone. She held my hand every time we were in the same room together. She kissed me every morning before we headed off in separate directions. She brought me and George lunch at the shop on both that Saturday and Sunday and then proceeded to snog me senseless in the back workroom.

 

_Damn, that was sexy._

 

I almost let myself get too lost in her, forgetting where we were and everything else in my head but how good she felt and how badly I wanted her. She whispered things in my ears that made me blush and Harry would never have believed me if I had told him. She made me want to believe so badly that it would always be us and I would always be enough for her. When she slid into my bed, hopelessly tangled our legs, and whispered in the dark about what we could have in the future, some of the images in my mind faded. Those moments were bliss. But, then those bloody thoughts of the locket would overwhelm me again and the fear took over. It was as though I was stuck in a groove, unable to jump out or do anything else but repeat the same movements and same thoughts over and over again.

 

I wanted to get unstuck; I wanted to wash everything away. It all came down to the locket- it was still real to me, whether it had been destroyed or not. I needed to banish its hold over me and force it to fade with the other memories.

 

_I can't give up now._

 

*****

 

Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)


	6. Chapter 6 - Patience is a Virtue

  
Author's notes:

Thanks, as always, to Stacy for the super speedy beta! Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review! ::snuggles you all:: This is the penultimate chapter and the last one from Hermione's POV. I'm nearly finished with the final chapter, so it should be up in a couple days. 

I can't wait to see what you all think of this chapter. Enjoy! ~Risie :o)

 

* * *

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 6 (Patience is a Virtue)

 

*****

 

I rested my head against the cold tiles of the shower, relishing the slightly warm water rushing against my skin. I needed to cool off. Despite a typical December chill in the air, I was flushed and frustrated and almost painfully aroused. I felt like I was going to burst from impatience and want. Normally I didn't feel as though I would die if I didn't get some sort of release. I enjoyed a good orgasm as much as the next person, at least from what I imagined, but I'd never felt so compelled to satiate the sexual energy running through my veins.

 

My hands cupped my breasts and tweaked my nipples, rolling them around between my small fingertips. In my mind, they were Ron's fingers pulling and teasing me. _But it's not him,_ I thought somewhat bitterly. I pushed away the unpleasant thoughts, instead focusing on the various things Ron had done to get me so worked up and hungry for him. I closed my eyes and then it was Ron's hand trailing down my stomach, just as it had done when we lay in bed together last night.

 

I heard my breath hitch when my fingers delved lower and my body remembered how Ron had pressed me into the bed. There'd been too many layers of clothing between us, but his weight had been heavenly. I relived the feeling of him grinding himself into my pelvis as we kissed, the memory now heightened by the feel of my fingers swirling around my aching clit.

 

_Almost there._ I was so close; my muscles were lightly shaking with the build-up of pressure.

 

I could've teased myself, could've drawn it out and enjoyed a merging of memory and fantasy, but the insistence that coursed through my veins begged me to take the shortest path to relief. My fingertips began swirling harder and faster and my hips pressed forward in time with my hand. My body sought the release it hadn't got all week long, my nerves were fairly bristling with the coiled tension throughout my body. In my mind, Ron didn't stop or pull away from me nor did he fall back against the bed panting in frustration. In my mind's eye, he was inside me and over me and surrounding me, unable to tolerate even an inch of distance between us.

 

With that final image, I felt my abdomen clench and release in waves of pleasure. _Ah, there it is- finally!_ I held my breath for a moment, hardly aware I was doing it until I needed air a few moments later. I sighed heavily and moved under the shower's spray, my shoulders sagging under the stream of water.

 

Instead of feeling the relief I had expected, my body was still somewhat tense. I groaned in continued frustration, wishing my impatient mind and body would give it a rest for one bloody minute. _It's enough to make me go mad_ , I thought and slammed my hand against the shower wall.

 

If I had thought things were finally going to be free and clear between Ron and me, that things would finally be easy, I would have been deluding myself. I wasn't a fool; I knew that Ron's road to recovery was going to be filled with ups and downs. I knew I needed to be patient and wait for him to process and work through his insecurities. I knew there were demons he needed to face and some of them had resided in his soul for longer than I had known him.

 

Yes, I knew all of those things _logically_ and I had plenty of sound reasoning to keep me company. That didn't stop me from wanting to be what he needed to erase the demons from his mind. That didn't stop my heart from feeling like anything I did might never be enough to help him successfully fight through the pain and doubts.

 

_It isn't about me,_ the part of my mind that wasn't consumed with doubt jumped in, refusing to let my anxieties mar the landscape of beautiful beginnings.

 

In a short period of time, Ron had really come a long way. He spent a majority of his evenings alone in his room, tirelessly viewing images in the Pensieve. If I hadn't been studying and immersed in revisions, I probably would've spent those evenings pacing back and forth and wondering what was going on. As it was, the only time we'd been consistently spending together were those stolen moments at night when it was just us wrapped up in the bed.

 

I turned off the shower and began towelling my body dry. I slipped my dressing gown on and wrung the water from my hair. As I wandered into my bedroom, I wondered when exactly I had given up my entire existence to Ron. Except for a few hours during the school days this week, I'd been almost fully unable to keep thoughts of him from flooding my mind. _I even thought about him during my exams,_ I thought ruefully, remembering how hard I'd had to fight with myself to banish thoughts of him for even that short time.

 

The past several days had been filled with every emotion I could think of and probably some that I couldn't even name. I was mainly feeling frustrated with the entire situation. Actually, I was frustrated about the situation and with Ron, to a certain extent, but I knew he was trying so hard to move forward that it seemed absolutely pointless to focus any of that in his direction.

 

He still hadn't told me what he was reviewing in the Pensieve, though I already knew, and I found myself really curious as to what images were troubling him the most. I refused to invade his privacy again; I already felt completely guilty that I'd succumbed and let my curiosity get the better of me the first time. I tried to push the guilt away, knowing I couldn’t take back what I’d done, but it stayed there, just under the surface. I wanted to ask him about the memories, but he tended to keep all those things to himself. I’d asked him how things were going a few days ago and he'd said "good" and that was all. To be fair though, most of his focus and attention had been on other things when I'd asked. _Much more pleasurable things,_ I thought warmly.

 

I was amazed at the difference in his level of confidence, especially in terms of him initiating anything with me. The first day he started the process of working through the memories was the worst, because he immediately became grouchy and irritable and tried to distance himself from me. In the past, if he'd been in that kind of mood, I'd steered clear of him, not wanting to provoke an argument or unintentionally make things worse. This time around, I couldn't tolerate the thought of leaving him alone in this for even a moment. He may not have confided his fears in me, but I had seen enough to know the doubts he was confronting. If I'd let him distance himself from me, he might've been vulnerable enough to take that as proof that I didn't want to be with him. There was no way I was going to let him think that, not for one second. _Never again._

 

My heart clenched at the memory of when I'd told him I loved him and that he'd never be alone. I'd told him I didn't want either of us to ever sleep alone again and then I'd climbed between his sheets and tried to show him just how much I loved him. I wanted to give him new memories to hold on to, especially for those moments when he let his fears and his imagination run away with him. I hoped he'd remember the moments we spent connecting, rather than letting the locket's images play on his fears.

 

That first night that I slept entirely in his bed, we clung to each other. Only minutes after I told him he wasn't alone in this, would never be alone again, he rolled me partly under his body and kissed me as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go. I pulled him closer to me and thought with some surprise how easy it would be to let myself get lost entirely in him, in his heavenly weight that was holding me down.

 

The surprised feeling I got about how quickly we were moving was, oddly, what caught me off guard the most. _Didn't I always know this would happen?_ At the very least, on some level, however subconscious it might have been, I'd accepted the natural trajectory of our relationship. The initial progression was awkward and almost painfully slow, though that made sense for us. We needed that time for this connection to organically grow between us. I was okay with that, with knowing that I might be waiting a long time; the only time it'd really bothered me was the sixth year _incident_ , as I'd taken to calling it in my head, when things had gone more than a bit off course.

 

That incident didn't matter though, because I knew that once Ron and I finally connected, we'd go from standing still to soaring together in a matter of days. So when he released my lips, rolled off of me, and shifted me onto my side to spoon with him, I found myself in the awkward and strange position of being disappointed that Ron didn't try to go any further and that his hands never once wandered out of safe territory. I felt like I was going mad and was clearly headed straight for the loony bin. Ron was being loving and passionate and not pushing me aside, despite the fact that he probably was full of doubts and confusion. He was being nothing short of respectful and I wanted nothing more than for him to forget decorum and ravage me.

 

Every successive night, I tried to encourage him to take some more liberties. I wasn't looking to be a slag, nor did I want to force either of us into something if we weren't ready for it, but _damn!_ We'd already waited for so long and the unresolved sexual tension was threatening to suck every bit of sanity I had left out of my body. I had a hard time understanding why he wasn't acting like he wanted to tear my clothes off and have his way with me. Wasn't all of this build-up that went nowhere driving him mad, too?

 

_Maybe he just doesn't want me as badly as I want him,_ I thought. Of course, I knew that wasn't true- I knew that every time the thought popped into my head. The difficult part was forcing myself to remember it wasn't true when my fears and insecurities got a hold of me. Ron and I really were quite the pair, both of us full of doubt and questions. It was no wonder it had taken us this long to get as far as we had together.

 

One thing had become abundantly clear: I needed more than what we had. I needed him to show me he wanted me. I needed him to lose control with me because he was so blinded by lust and want and love that he simply couldn't help himself for a moment longer. More than that, over the course of the week, I had slowly been overcome by the need to show him undeniable proof that there would never be another man to take his place.

 

I left my bedroom, intent on finally being direct with Ron. I'd been relying on my actions a bit too much lately and I thought, at this point, Ron really needed my words and actions to be combined into a definitive statement. I'd showed up at the shop and snogged him breathless over the previous weekend, but had I specifically said I wanted him? Not in so many words, but I thought my actions had left no room for doubt. I assumed he could tell how genuinely happy he was making me. I'd slid between his sheets and told him I loved him, but had I ever told him that I wanted him and couldn't wait for him to make love to me? No, but I'd thought my hands roaming down his backside had been enough to show him what I wanted.

 

_He needs proof,_ I reminded myself. I was sure of it, though he'd never said anything to that effect. He didn't need to say anything for me to sense what was going through his heart. The insecurities, the doubt, and the questions- they all led to the same place. If he never had an answer to those niggling feelings, he would never be secure. I felt his need for proof as surely as I'd felt the same emotion running through my veins. Tonight, as long as he let me, I was going to give him that proof.

 

I walked into his bedroom, pleased to see him turning down the covers on his bed. His tentative smile melted my heart and all I could think about was how this man had to be mine. I'd never survive if he didn't want the future life I dreamt of having with him. I sat on the bed and pulled him down next to me, entwining our fingers together. I leaned over to kiss him, trying to convey all of the love and tenderness I felt for him.

 

"Ron?"

 

"Mmmm?"

 

"Can I ask you something?"

 

"Always," he said with an easy smile.

 

"How can you stand the wait?" I asked him with no inflection or judgement. I didn't want him to think I was angry or frustrated with him.

 

"The wait? What do you mean, love?" He genuinely looked confused.

 

"To be together," I replied softly.

 

"We aren't together?" He furrowed his brow as he asked the question.

 

"That's not really what I meant, Ron, although I suppose I just assumed we were. I mean, you never asked, but--"

 

"Be mine," he said loudly and interrupted what was sure to become my awkward waffling and blathering on if he hadn't cut in. He stared hard at me and was taking shallow breaths.

 

_How can he think I'd say no?_ I was amazed he couldn't see that there had never been any question. The fact that he worried made my heart ache for him, because I realised how far he still needed to come in accepting what a treasure he was to everyone who knew him, especially to me. I knew I already was his, I could never really belong to another person, but his demanding words brought unexpected tears to my eyes.

 

"Say it again," I said with watery eyes and the largest smile my face could possibly accommodate.

 

"Be mine. Please." He said it again in a much huskier tone and the corners of his mouth twitched, ready to burst into a full-blown Ron Weasley grin. Before his mouth got the chance, I leaned forward and covered his lips with mine. The tears spilt down my cheeks once I closed my eyes and Ron's lovely fingers reached up to brush them away.

 

"Yes," I said when I finally pulled back. Then he did break into that trademark grin and my heart swelled with pride and happiness that it was because of me. He pulled me to rest against his chest and my arms automatically went around his waist.

 

"You were waiting for me to ask? This whole time? Why didn't you just say so?” he laughed. “Women are barmy!" I released one arm to cuff him lightly on the back of his head.

 

"It isn't barmy!"

 

"Whatever you say, love."

 

"It isn't," I insisted. "Besides, as lovely as it was, I really did assume we were already together, so I wasn't pining over it."

 

"Right. That's why you brought it up," he said teasingly and chuckled again.

 

"I was referring to something else, Ronald."

 

"And that would be?"

 

I leaned away from him so I could look into his eyes. I wanted to drown in them. I decided it would be a lovely way to go. _Here goes nothing..._

 

"How can you stand the wait for us to be _together_?" I bit my lip nervously as I waited and watched for comprehension to dawn on his features. A slight blush started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks when he understood what I meant. He smirked at me and his eyes glinted.

 

"Why Miss Hermione Granger! Are you propositioning me?"

 

"Fuck, yes I am," I said loudly, knowing my words would drive him mad and relishing the thought. I wasn't a prude, he'd certainly heard me curse before, but it wasn't as frequent an occurrence for me- at least not aloud- as it was for him.

 

He stared at me, presumably gobsmacked, for a few moments. His gaze was making me feel as though he'd already undressed me and I felt a flush rising on my skin as well. _At least we match now,_ I thought with some amusement.

 

"Please say something," I pleaded with him. I knew it was perfectly natural for me to have these desires and urges and to want to act on them. Nonetheless, I still felt like a slag for even suggesting it so soon. Wasn't it supposed to be the boys who couldn't keep their hormones in check while the girls insisted they wanted to wait? _Sod that,_ I thought. It was ridiculous to assume we should act certain ways just because of our genders and I chided myself for falling prey to such lines of thinking.

 

"I don't want to sound like a ruddy girl- no offence or anything- but I haven't been ready. Not to mention, Hermione, that I assumed _you_ weren't either."

 

"Clearly that's not the case. I see no need to wait- when you know, you know."

 

He practically leapt at me then and we fell against the bed, kissing frantically. His hand cupped the back of my head and his fingers brushed against my scalp. I felt tingles rushing down my spine, as though his fingers were touching me all over. His other hand continued to assault my senses by reaching around to grip my arse. _Finally,_ I thought quite happily and with no small amount of relief, until he moved off of me and threw a hand over his eyes.

 

I nearly screamed in frustration.

 

"What's wrong?" I asked breathlessly, hardly believing we were at this spot again.

 

"I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just wrong. I can't help myself when you say things like that, but I can't. It wouldn't be right." He lowered the hand over his eyes, but didn't turn to look at me.

 

"It's wrong that I want to make love to you? It's wrong that I dream of you being inside me?"

 

"No, I-" Ron started to say something, but then he groaned loudly and it was the sexiest noise I'd ever heard. "Damn, Hermione, do you have any idea how fucking sexy that is? When you say things like that? Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

 

_Perhaps the same thing you're doing to me,_ I almost said aloud. Instead, I said, "So then why is it wrong?"

 

"I guess it's not, but I... I feel like I shouldn't, like _we_ shouldn't... not until I've worked through something."

 

"Something about me?" I asked and he looked evasively around the room. I sighed and decided I needed to come clean about what I'd seen in the Pensieve. I wanted him to know I was fully aware of what he was afraid of- or, at the very least, that I had seen some of his nightmares. I wanted him to know he didn't have to hide from me. "Ron, I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you might get mad at me. You have every right to be angry, but it was an accident."

 

He turned onto his side to look at me and rested his head against his propped up arm. He looked somewhat worried and I swallowed nervously.

 

_I didn't really think this through, did I?_ Certainly, it would have been easier to make something up or refrain from saying anything. I was risking Ron's anger, which would be absolutely deserved and justified, but, more importantly, I was risking damaging his trust in me. It was horrifying to think I might lose him almost as soon as I had him, but I knew confessing what I'd done was the right thing to do.

 

"You remember last Thursday? What a daft question- of course you remember it. What I meant to say is, um..." I suddenly lost momentum when I looked up from my hands and into his eyes.

 

"'Mione?"

 

"Sorry, I got distracted for a second. Right. Um… Oh, when you came in your room and I was sitting on the bed- well- I'm sure you noticed I was acting odd and- oh, it's just too awful to say!" It seemed I'd finally reached the edge of being able to tolerate what I'd done to him, what I'd taken without his permission. The dam broke.

 

_He'll never trust me again!_ The thought reverberated around in my head and, quite without my realising it, large tears began to roll down my face. I looked over at Ron as he sat up quickly, alarm clear on his face, and I was sure he knew what I was trying to tell him. Except he must not have figured it out yet, because he looked worried about my distress and not the least bit angry with me. His concern for my state made me feel even worse; I didn't deserve it, especially not after what I'd done. His arms enveloped me strongly and I heard him shushing me lightly, telling me not to cry. I realised how crazy I probably looked to him and I tried to calm myself. I wanted to tell him everything, but I was terrified he would hate me. However, I knew it would be worse if it ever slipped out later.

 

"Ron," I said, my voice slightly muffled by his shoulder, and I felt him start to pull away. "Don't! I'll never be able to say this if I have to look at you." I felt his body settle back against mine; he was more tense than a moment ago. "When I came home on Thursday and went into you room, I looked to see if you were inside the Pensieve. Oh, Ron, I stayed and watched some of the memories. It was so wrong, so wrong." The tears overtook me again and the shame flowed through me as Ron stayed silent.

 

"You... you saw?" he whispered into my neck and I nodded, unable to find the words to express how sorry I felt. "Fuck! Hermione, I'm so sorry, I-"

 

" _You're_ sorry?" I practically yelled as I yanked my head away from him. He flinched.

 

"I tried to keep you away from that. You shouldn't have to be exposed to-"

 

"Exposed? Ron, you have nothing to be sorry for! Those are your thoughts and fears and I invaded your privacy and I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry and I had no right to and I did and-"

 

Ron covered my mouth with his hand and leaned his forehead against mine. Hope flared within my chest.

 

"You're not mad at me?" he asked after a few moments and I vigorously shook my head no, since his hand still silenced my mouth. "You aren't horrified at my lack of faith in you or my-"

 

"No," I exclaimed loudly as I wrenched his hand away from my lips. I gripped his fingers tightly within my own. "No, of course I'm not mad at you. That's what the locket did to you. It wasn't your fault it affected you more than Harry and me. It wasn't your fault at all."

 

"That bloody locket only did some of that. Hermione, I've always been afraid you'd pick him or any other bloke over me. The locket made those feelings worse, but I'm not going to lie to you: they were there before."

 

My eyes again filled with tears and I reached up to wipe them away with my free hand. My dear, sweet Ron, always so self-sacrificing, was more worried about how I'd react to the images than what I'd done. _How does he not know how wonderful he is?_ I knew he had poor self-confidence and questioned himself, but how could he ever think I would want Harry over him? He wasn't second-best or a runner-up trophy. To me, he was the best. I wanted the best. It hurt my heart to be told how deeply his doubts ran, that the locket had amplified already existing fears within him. I didn't want him to ever question my love for him again. I knew that might take a while and he still had a lot to work through before he'd truly believe it, but I was determined- now more than ever.

 

"I'm sorry you've ever had to worry or wonder. I will never love another man the way I love you. No one else could ever come close. But, can you ever forgive me?” My eyes pleaded with him as I asked for his forgiveness. “Can you ever trust me again?" His fingers squeezed mine roughly.

 

He let out a sort of rumbling laugh which seemed very out of place. "You daft woman- I told you I thought you would want Harry and you said it's me forever. I'd have to be pretty stupid to not forgive you. Even I'm not that thick!"

 

Just as I was about to scold him for putting himself down again, he kissed me. I grasped his shoulder to gather him closer to me, delighted when his arm around my waist tightened. With our bodies in such close contact, I easily felt the evidence of his body responding to me and I had a renewed sense of wanting to show him how much I loved him.

 

"Ron? I know you said you have something you want to work through, but I can't think of a better way to prove to you how wrong that locket was."

 

He looked at me openly, hopefully, as though he trusted his life in my hands. I promised myself I would never again betray that trust.

 

I looked at him and smiled. "Let's make some new memories."

 

His genuine smile told me I had finally gotten through to him.

 

_Time to make beautiful new memories._

 

*****

 

Thanks so much for reading! The last chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)

 


	7. Chapter 7 - Lost and Found

  
Author's notes:

This is the last chapter, folks! Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed the fic so far.  I've been flabbergasted by the positive reception it's received and I can't thank you enough for all of the feedback and support. Thank you, as always, to Stacy for the lightning-fast beta and help. 

A huge thank you to my dear friend, MrQuatto, who commissioned this fic during TQP's Ron-a-Thon silent auction. It never would have been written without his prompts and wishes, so I thank him heartily. ::hugs:: 

To make up for the evil cliffie last time, and the wait time in between, this chapter is super long. I hope you all enjoy it. I can't wait to hear what you think! If you would all be so kind as to leave a review, I'd be very apreciative. Hugs to you all! ~Risie :o)

 

* * *

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 7 (Lost and Found)

 

*****

 

_I wonder if I'll ever get used to this feeling,_ I thought as Hermione settled against my bed and kissed me. It was unlike anything I'd ever known before and I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

 

She started talking about not being able to stand the wait and I was confused. The wait for what? I worried for a moment that I was supposed to do something when she said what she wanted: for us to be together. I'd only been in a remotely similar situation once and I'd never had to ask before, but I was happy she was the only person I'd ever ask to be mine. She said yes and started crying and I was so relieved; I finally felt like I'd done something right. I teased her, which felt great, until she pointed out that I'd missed the point again.

 

"How can you stand the wait for us to be _together_?"

 

_What the bloody hell is she- oh!_ Suddenly I realised exactly what she meant and became flustered. What the fuck that was about, I had no idea, because men weren't supposed to get flustered when their girlfriends wanted to shag them. What did it say about me that I was more apprehensive than excited? That I was a wanker, that's what. I decided to tease her again to cover it up.

 

"Why Miss Hermione Granger! Are you propositioning me?"

 

I figured that would buy me some time to think, but her "fuck, yes I am" threw me even more off guard. She swore at me! It wasn't as though I'd never heard her curse before, but it was rare to hear such words so deliberately come out of her mouth. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever said to me. I stared at her, unable to force my mind and body to come to consensus on what to do. Her skin flushed and I tried to force myself not to imagine her entire body doing that as I made love to her.

 

_Oh, she wants me to say something,_ I dimly realised. I wondered how I could possibly tell her I didn't know if I could handle it without sounding like a bloody _girl_. I wanted to tell her I wasn't strong enough yet. I wanted to tell her that I didn't want my sodding mind to taint anything that happened between us. I wanted to tell her that my instinct was to wait until I'd worked through my gripping fear that she'd eventually leave me.

 

My body wanted my mind to kindly shut the fuck up.

 

"Please say something," she said, sounding uncomfortable. I realised there was no way around it but to tell the truth, otherwise I’d leave her hanging and wondering what was taking me so long.

 

"I don't want to sound like a ruddy girl- no offence or anything- but I haven't been ready." _Fuck! That makes me sound like a bloody poof,_ I thought before adding, "Not to mention, Hermione, that I assumed _you_ weren't either."

 

"Clearly that's not the case. I see no need to wait- when you know, you know," she said without a hint of hesitation.

 

Whatever I'd thought she might say paled in comparison to reality. Did she really not know the power of her words? _When you know, you know._ Merlin, it had to be the most perfect thing she ever could have said to alleviate my fears. I had to kiss her again. It was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that could make the moment better.

 

I laid over her and threaded my hand through her hair. I loved her hair. She sucked on my tongue and my other hand gripped her arse without my permission. If I didn't think I was ready, grinding into her was definitely not the best way to prove it. With some difficulty, I rolled off her and threw a hand over my eyes. Damn, this was going to kill me.

 

"What's wrong?" she asked and I could practically feel the tension coming off her in waves.

 

_Time for damage control!_

 

"I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just wrong. I can't help myself when you say things like that, but I can't. It wouldn't be right." I sounded like an idiot. I lowered the hand over my eyes, but couldn't turn my face to look at her. I didn't want to see the disappointment on her face.

 

"It's _wrong_ that I want to make love to you? It's _wrong_ that I dream of you being inside me?"

 

Okay, I was wrong. _That_ was the sexiest thing she'd ever said to me.

 

"No, I-" I started to say something, but all I could focus on was how hard she was making me with just her words. "Damn, Hermione,” I groaned in frustration. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?" She had to know how I reacted to her- how could she not?

 

"So then why is it wrong?" she asked again and I knew she wouldn't let it go until I spelled it out for her.

 

"I guess- it's not- but I... I feel like I shouldn't, like _we_ shouldn't... not until I've worked through something." There, I'd basically said it without exactly saying it.

 

"Something about me?" she asked and I looked at the ceiling as though the answer would magically appear in sparkling writing. She sighed heavily and I suddenly got the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. She said she wanted to talk, that I might get angry with her, that something had been an accident. I shifted onto my side automatically and looked directly at her. She wanted to talk about last Thursday- this was worse than I originally thought. She paused for a long moment and I felt my nerves becoming agitated.

 

"'Mione?"

 

"Sorry, I got distracted for a second. Right. Um… Oh, when you came in your room and I was sitting on the bed- well- I'm sure you noticed I was acting odd and- oh, it's just too awful to say!" She waffled on a bit and then, out of nowhere, she burst into tears and I had no idea what to do.

 

At first I thought she was going to end things with me. _Not the most reasonable thought,_ I admitted to myself, but it'd always been a fear of mine that she'd suddenly change her mind. Maybe she had come to her senses and realised she deserved better.

 

No matter the reason, all I could think to do was hold her to me and shush her. I wanted to comfort her because I loved her- even if she was about to break my heart. What else could possibly account for her bursting into tears when she thought about Thursday? These hadn't been the happy variety of tears or I might've been cautiously optimistic.

 

She said my name and I was convinced that was the end for us. I started to pull away when she gripped me and said she'd never manage to say the words if she had to look at me. I swore my heart stopped for a moment. I let her clutch me back to her, my body tensed in anticipation of the coming blow. I rested my head against her neck, certain it would be the last time I was ever allowed to do so. Then she said the words I dreaded to hear except-- _wait, what?_

 

She saw them?

 

Panic flooded my body. She'd confirmed my worst fears. She saw the memories and said it was so wrong. I could only believe she had seen them and thought me to be a bloody pervert for imagining such things. I wondered if there was any way to control the damage those images might have caused.

 

_See, this was why they were safer in my head!_ I yelled to myself, but I knew I needed to say something aloud.

 

"You... you saw?" I managed to whisper and she nodded against my neck. "Fuck! Hermione, I'm so sorry, I-"

 

" _You're_ sorry?" she screamed at me as she bodily pulled herself away.

 

I flinched at the raw emotion I heard in her voice. I'd really done it- she'd never forgive me, but I had to try. "I tried to keep you away from that. You shouldn't have to be exposed to-"

 

"Exposed?" she repeated, which scared the hell out of me, because it almost always signalled the beginning of one of our blazing rows. "Ron, you have nothing to be sorry for! Those are your thoughts and fears and I invaded your privacy and I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry and I had no right to and I did and-"

 

I clamped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Whatever she might say didn't matter at all right now, because she knew about the nightmares and she didn't hate me. In an odd way, knowing Hermione was aware of what my fears were, I found myself comforted. I'd wanted to tell her before, but I had never found the right combination of words and courage to say anything. The closest I'd come was the first day I'd taken the memories out and stored them in the Pensieve. I'd tried to tell her, but had been physically unable to call them to mind. It was ironic that I'd wanted to share everything then, even though I couldn't remember anything.

 

I knew she was expecting me to be angry with her and I probably would've been if I wasn't so relieved that she wasn't leaving me.

 

"You're not mad at me?" I asked for confirmation and she shook her head no. "You aren't horrified at my lack of faith in you or my-"

 

" _No_ ," she practically yelled as she ripped my hand from her face and gripped my fingers. "No, of course I'm not mad at you. That's what the locket did to you. It wasn't your fault it affected you more than Harry and me. It wasn't your fault at all."

 

It would have been so easy to let her believe that it was all the bloody locket's fault. Easy, but not right, and I didn't want to start our relationship with a lie.

 

"That bloody locket only did some of that. Hermione, I've always been afraid you'd pick him or any other bloke over me. The locket made those feelings worse, but I'm not going to lie to you: they were there before."

 

She started to cry again and I wondered if I'd ever find the right words to not make her cry.

 

"I'm sorry you've ever had to worry or wonder. I will never love another man the way I love you. No one else could ever come close. But, can you ever forgive me? Can you ever trust me again?" she asked and I squeezed her hand tightly. _She loves me_ , I thought and held onto her words with delight.

 

My dear Hermione, always so fixated and obsessed with every detail, couldn't see what was right in front of her. She could have been horrified with me, but she wasn't. I could have been pissed off at her, but I wasn't. For once we hadn't made a mountain out of a molehill and I wasn't about to let anything escalate this situation. I laughed for a second about the fact that we almost always managed to rile each other up.

 

"You daft woman- I told you I thought you would want Harry and you said it's me forever. I'd have to be pretty stupid to not forgive you. Even I'm not that thick!"

 

Before either of us could ruin the moment, I kissed her again and pressed roughly against her. I knew she could probably feel just what she did to me, but I really didn't care in that moment. It felt wonderful to simply feel and be together and not wonder about the future for a moment.

 

She leaned back and said she wanted to prove how wrong that locket had been all along. "Let's make some new memories," she said and I nearly came at the images her words conjured. I looked hopefully at her, wanting to believe she could help fix any problem within me.

 

_This can't possibly be happening!_

 

My world had been flipped on its side so many times in only the last few minutes. I was still trying to digest exactly what happened when I felt my face stretch into a grin at what Hermione was suggesting. My body certainly knew how it wanted to answer her request. My heart did too, fuelled by the flux of emotions I had just experienced. However, my mind was somewhat unconvinced, recognising that there were good reasons which had lead to my initial hesitation.

 

I wanted to lose myself in her, in us. I wanted to find my sanctuary in our relationship and her body. I wanted so many things, but I didn't want her to think this experience could replace years of frustration and doubts and fears. I didn't want to make love to her to try to replace those older memories with a newer one. Hiding those feelings under the rug wouldn't help me in the long run and I wanted to make sure I dealt with them now, rather than later. However, I realised if we waited until I worked through all of those problems, both of us might be ridiculously frustrated. I had no idea how long we might need to wait.

 

_That hardly seems necessary_ , I thought, for the first time seeing that denying myself Hermione was only delaying the inevitable. Despite the fact that I didn't want to make love to her solely to replace the dark, unwanted feelings, I desperately wanted to feel that connection with her. I wanted to invisibly mark her as mine and to let her do the same to me. I knew Hermione would never offer herself to me unless she meant this thing between us to be forever.

 

I craved the security making love to her would bring. I couldn't think of it as shagging, because then I'd succumb to letting my body dictate my actions. I wanted to think this through rationally and to feel it was the right thing to do in my heart. But, really, I already knew the answer. I'd always belonged to her and committing myself to her hardly changed a thing, except that now I would have proof of her love when the nightmares and doubts became to much. I could directly prove the nightmares and fears to be ridiculous simply by remembering these moments between us. The nightmares wouldn't stop, at least not immediately. The doubts and fears and insecurities and questions- all of them would still hover in my brain, I was sure of that. I was willing to put in the work, I was willing to try to move on from that. This was another step in the right direction. I'd already done so much work and had been making progress, but this could be the push I was needing to get over the biggest hurdle.

 

I looked up to see Hermione still smiling patiently at me, her fingers still grasped in mine.

 

"I want to, I really do, but I don't want to go into this with you thinking this will fix everything, Hermione. I don't think it will and I can't promise anything. I think it will help, but I don't want you to get your hopes up."

 

"I just want to be with you. I'll wait however long that takes, but I want to show you. It's okay if you have the nightmares. I know those'll take a while to fully go away, but I still want to show you that they couldn't be farther from the truth."

 

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, unable to believe this was really happening.

 

"Please, love, let me show you," she whispered and I nodded my head in agreement. Her lips were on mine before I even opened my eyes.

 

I'd expected frantic and passionate movements, but she made slow and soft slides of her lips against mine. _She's already driving me mad!_ Her hand trailed up and down my side, squeezing lightly in some places, more roughly in others, and I started to imagine her fingers on other places of my body. Somehow we ended up against the headboard of the bed and Hermione was straddling one of my thighs. Her hands that had started out timid and hesitant were gaining more confidence, pushing up my shirt and rubbing bare skin. If she kept doing that, this was all going to be over before I got a chance to do anything to her.

 

I braced my hand behind her head and leaned forward to press her into the mattress. My fingers reached up to cup her breast almost before I noticed, but her moan of approval stopped me from moving them away. I nearly snorted at the thought of taking my hand away from her body. It was so automatic to try to force my body to not take liberties that now I hardly knew what to do with my hands. I wanted to touch her all over, especially now that I didn't have to worry about stopping. _Amazing that!_

 

I moved my fingers just inside her dressing gown, absolutely gobsmacked when my hand encountered warm flesh instead of a shirt. I'd hardly paid attention to the fact that her hair was still wet from her shower so it hadn't even occurred to me that she might be naked under her dressing gown. She moaned into my mouth and grabbed my arse and I got lost in the sensation of her body fitting perfectly into mine.

 

She clutched at my back with one hand, successively pushing my shirt higher and higher, before forcing me to release her mouth so she could pull it over my head. I leaned back into her, not willing to sacrifice an inch of space. I immediately sucked her earlobe into my mouth, finally able to trace the shell of it with my tongue. I flicked the tip of my tongue into her ear and was unbelievably turned on when I heard her gasping in response.

 

She reached between us and I got really excited when I thought she was going to grab for my cock, but I thought I might die when I realised her hand was fumbling with the knot at the front of her dressing gown instead. My fingers reached down to meet hers and, between the two of us, we managed to pull the knot free. There was only a thin piece of fabric separating her from being exposed to me and all I had to do was push it aside. Apparently Hermione had other ideas though, because as soon as I had it within my grasp, she gripped my hips with her knees and my biceps with her hands, rolled us over, and landed on top of me. Her dressing gown fell open and her hair created a curtain around us when she bent down to kiss me again.

 

I rested one hand on her hip, slightly disappointed to feel the material of her knickers against my fingertips. No matter, they were going to come off soon enough. My other hand moved to grab her breast again and I marvelled at how well it fit in the palm of my hand. It wasn't overly large, though it certainly wasn't small either, and I gave it an experimental squeeze. Hermione's teeth clashed against mine a bit roughly and I took that as a good sign. I brushed my thumb over the puckered nipple and felt it harden further after I grazed it. I had no bloody idea what I was doing, but she kept making these soft whimpering sounds into my mouth and I knew I was on the right track.

 

She sat back against my groin and looked up at the ceiling while she caught her breath for a moment. _Merlin, she's beautiful,_ I thought as I got my first good look at her almost fully nude body. Her skin was slightly flushed and her chest was heaving up and down as she breathed deeply. The sight of her made my cock strain even harder against my pyjama bottoms and I itched to make her feel the same as I did, so I sat up partially and kissed the underside of her left breast before I wrapped my lips around the nipple and sucked it lightly into my mouth. Her hands twisted in my hair and she made the fucking sexiest sound I could imagine, somewhere between a groan, a moan, and a gasp and I wanted to hear it for the rest of my life.

 

I grasped her dressing gown near both of her shoulders and lightly slid it down her arms, feeling it land on my legs. I rested a hand at the small of her back, pushing her against me while I sucked at her other nipple. I started to push her back into the pillows, but she leaned away from me and my lips released her with a wet pop. She grinned a bit deviously at me for a moment before pushing on my chest so I rested back against the mattress. I raised an eyebrow at her, but otherwise stayed still.

 

Her small fingers tucked into the waistband of my pyjama bottoms and tried to pull them down, but it was a little difficult with her sitting on top of me. It took some manoeuvring and wriggling on both of our parts, but she managed to get them down to my thighs and I kicked them off as best as I could. I started to laugh at the awkwardness of the situation and soon she laid down on my chest, shaking with her own laughter. It was clear neither of us was expecting perfection for this first time and I was glad to see we both had a sense of humour about the whole thing. More than likely, it was going to be somewhat awkward, might hurt her at least a little, and I'd probably last an embarrassingly short time, but none of that mattered in the end. All that mattered was that we were finally going to be together.

 

The whole ordeal managed to take my attention away from the fact that I'd lost my pants and was lying completely naked beneath Hermione. As soon as I realised it, I tried to ignore the feel of my cock resting against the smooth skin of her stomach and the sensation of her bare thighs laying beside mine. I was almost successful. _Almost-_ until I realised that I could feel her heat and a slight dampness pressed against my crotch. _That_ sensation was a bit much for me to bear and I closed my eyes to prevent my body from becoming overloaded and exploding before I got to enjoy myself.

 

She began to scoot down my torso, trailing kisses as she went. I assumed she was going to look at my cock. My Hermione was nothing if not curious about everything and I would have been surprised if she hadn't tried to study me a bit. To be honest, I wanted to study her body more than a bit, so I figured it was fair to give her time for her research. However, I wasn't prepared to feel her delicate fingers lightly wrap around the girth of my cock, nor for her palm to test the weight of my bollocks. I kept my eyes closed, knowing that if I opened them and saw her biting her lip in concentration, this would all be over in a moment. Yes, I was a teenage male and I'd be back up within a few minutes, but that certainly wasn't how I wanted my first time with Hermione to happen.

 

She tightened her grip a bit and experimentally ran her fist up and down the entire length and I felt my toes curl, trying not to come from her just her fingers.

 

"'Mione- not gonna last if you keep doing that," I gasped out roughly, amazed I'd been able to say anything even somewhat coherent.

 

"It's okay, I want you to let go," she said tenderly. "Besides, you'll last longer the second time if you get out some of the urgency first."

 

She planned on a second time already? _Bloody hell!_ She was brilliant, no question about it.

 

"Who told you that?" I asked, ready to tease her when she inevitably said she read it in some book. Her "I don't think you really want to know" response and devilish grin took me back slightly. If she had heard it from anyone close to her, then she had gotten advice on how to wank me either from my grieving brother, our mutual best friend, or my baby sister who probably knew because of said best friend. She was right- I definitely didn't want to know.

 

Her hand started moving again and I didn't have the will to fight her; instead I enjoyed the twinges of pleasure shooting through me. I tried not to thrust in her mouth and I was determined not to embarrass myself by coming within a minute, but then I felt her tongue softly lick against the head of my cock and I nearly lost it right then and there. A strangled cry escaped my mouth when she enveloped the entire tip within her mouth and sucked and I fisted the bed sheets so I had something to hold. In that moment, I didn't care who had given her tips, all I could focus on was the feel of her taste-buds dragging against the head and the warm insides of her cheeks surrounding me. It felt unbelievably fucking good, so much better than wanking myself had ever felt.

 

She bobbed her head up and down a bit and the image was so erotic that too soon I felt the tightness in my balls increase and I came directly into her mouth. She sputtered quite a bit and I clenched my jaw in frustration; to say I was mortified would have been an understatement. I hadn't even warned her that I was close before I let loose into her mouth and I half-expected her to yell at me, but she smiled up at me like the cat who got the cream and I suddenly could breathe again.

 

_I love this woman._

 

"Hermione- brilliant- I can't... how did you," I babbled, knowing I wasn't making any sense, but unable to form any other words.

 

"Good to know you liked it," she said and laughed softly as she crawled back up to rest next to me. Her fingers traced up and down my chest as my breathing slowed and she turned on her side to face me. "Do you realise we're upside down on this bed?" she asked suddenly.

 

I hadn't noticed at all, but it was so inherently Hermione to notice something like that. She had just taken me to within an inch of my life and left me boneless on this same bed and _now_ she noticed that we weren't facing the usual direction. Her comment struck me as hilarious and I started laughing, the release of my orgasm making me feel freer and more relaxed than I'd been in ages. She laughed too and tucked her head into my outstretched arm. It was striking to realise that how I'd always thought we'd be together in bed was exactly how it was shaping up to be. Well, not exactly- in my fantasies I'd always lasted for hours- but the way we played together, that was just how I'd pictured us. We were passionate and challenging, constantly teasing and pushing each other past limits, with a slightly crazy way of looking at the world. It didn't make any sense, but it was us and that made it fit together somehow.

 

I pulled her closer to me and kissed the top of her head, before kissing her cheek and resting against her neck. There was something about her neck that had always appealed to me. It was sort of like her ear that way, in that there should be nothing sexy about a neck, but it made me want to lie there a while and breathe her in. I licked her pulse point and sucked her skin lightly as I rolled her onto her back.

 

"My turn," I whispered into her ear and proceeded to kiss every inch of skin I could reach between her chin and her tits. I decided I loved them even more naked than I did clothed. When they were covered, I'd been able to picture exactly what they looked like and would feel like. Now I knew what they tasted like, how they hardened in my mouth, how she gasped when I left a mark on one. What amazed me was that I felt myself becoming hard again from hearing her breath catch like that. I wondered how much space would be taken up in my brain from memorising all of the new noises she was making.

 

I trailed my hand down her stomach, mesmerised by the contrast between my freckles and her creamy, smooth skin. As my fingers traced her ribs and stopped at her knickers, I noticed goose pimples rising on her skin. I looked up at her face, but her eyes were tightly clenched and she seemed to be concentrating on breathing. _Did I do that?_ She'd said she wanted me, that she couldn't wait to be with me, but hearing that and seeing her response were completely different things. I had a hard time believing she could possibly be as turned on by my touch as I was by hers, but the evidence was staring me in the face.

 

I hooked my fingers into the hem of her knickers and began to slowly peel them down her legs. As she was exposed to me, I forced myself to keep breathing and to not act like an immature berk at being completely naked with a girl, much less my Hermione. It was difficult though, because she was letting me see her without trying to cover herself which surprised the hell out of me. _She trusts me,_ I realised and felt my heart clench at the thought.

 

"I love you," I said, wanting to make sure I said it before I got overwhelmed and potentially forgot. She got this huge grin on her face and said she loved me too. We'd said it so many times in the past week, but saying it in this situation felt more serious. They weren't just meaningless words and a phrase we'd shared to show our affection, they were the words that would keep us together.

 

I let my fingers skip further down her stomach again and met her eyes before I delved them into her dark, curly hair. _Bloody hell, I'm touching Hermione!_ I felt mildly pathetic for nearly losing it while touching her, considering she was the one who was supposed to be losing control, but then I couldn't be arsed to give a damn because her breath caught and her back arched slightly.

 

My fingertips mapped her folds and glided up and down for a moment before settling near her slightly engorged clit. It was moments like this that I was so glad to have had five older brothers who all felt it was their duty to share their sexual knowledge with me. It was like a brothers' code or something to them, but to me it meant that I knew something about how to please Hermione from the start. Her hips surged forward a bit when I rolled my fingers around her clit and her hand shot out to grip my forearm. She moaned softly and I lost myself in the movement of my fingers, the slight squirming of her hips, and the slick wetness that coated my fingers and palm. She gripped my arm more roughly and seemed to stop breathing for a moment and then her back arched even more. She trembled against me for a moment before sucking in a large mouthful of air and pulling my lips down to hers.

 

I'd kept my fingers moving the entire time, but she swatted them away at one point and I moved my hand to lay on her hip. I had the urge to break away from her kisses and to suck my fingers into my mouth, wanting to taste her like she had tasted me. I wanted to taste the proof that I'd given her an orgasm. I was pretty sure I had, but she hadn't been particularly vocal and it was rather more difficult to tell with girls than it was with boys. With blokes, it was obvious fairly quickly; with girls, apparently not so much.

 

"Um, Hermione, did you..." I trailed off, not wanting to be vulgar with her.

 

She nodded her head and blushed, her breath still not back to normal. Before I could say anything else, she quickly rolled off the bed, grabbed my wand off the bureau, and handed it to me. I looked at her curiously, unsure what in the world she was handing it to me for, especially given the suddenness of her actions.

 

"The charm, Ron- we can't be too careful. I went on the potion a few months ago, but you should do the charm for yourself as well. Just in case," she said with a grin as she knelt on the bed next to me.

 

She wanted me to be coherent and clear-headed enough to perform the contraceptive charm now? She was barking mad, though that was nothing new. I took my wand from her and recited the words that had been drilled into me since puberty. Yet another thing that made having older brothers damn convenient. I was glad to see the light blue sparks come out of my wand and settle over me before disappearing. If there wasn't some sort of visual confirmation, I might've been too terrified to try anything. Well, that was a lie I told myself, but it sure sounded better in my head than thinking that I didn't really care as long as I got to be inside Hermione soon. _Damn, I'm a randy bugger._

 

She pulled the wand from my fingers, tossed it behind her, and crawled up to the head of the bed. I nearly laughed at that, since she had mentioned our physical orientation on the bed earlier, but she crooked her finger at me and it was as though she'd placed an invisible string around me to draw me to her. I settled in between her thighs, naturally, like my place had always been there, and I leaned forward to kiss her lightly. I wanted to make sure she was as relaxed as possible, because I knew it would probably hurt her. She smiled against my lips and reached between us to grab my cock and position me properly.

 

"It might hurt," I said and kissed her cheek.

 

"Yes, it probably will," she responded matter-of-factly.

 

"I'm sorry," I said earnestly. I didn't want to hurt her, even if it was only temporary.

 

"Don't worry- it'll be over soon."

 

_One last moment before it all changes._

 

"This'll change things, Hermione."

 

"No, it won't change anything," she said and shook her head slightly.

 

"It will, this is it-"

 

"No," she said again, cutting me off. "This changes nothing. I was already yours- this is just me showing you that."

 

I closed my eyes at her words. She was right; of course, she was right. This would change everything and nothing. I’d thought that myself not half and hour ago. I already belonged to her and she to me. All we were doing was showing each other in actions what we'd already pledged.

 

"I was already yours," I repeated her words and kissed her again, one hand coming up to cup her face. I nibbled lightly on her lower lip and then swiped it with my tongue to soothe any ache.

 

Her hand had come to rest on my bum and she pushed on it, her body language showing me she wanted me to move. I braced my weight on my arms and slowly pressed forward until the head of my cock was entirely enveloped in her. She was hot and wet and so tight around me and it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. She took a couple deep breaths and I thought it was a good idea to do the same. I didn't want to come right away, but knew I wouldn't last long. As she was drawing in another breath, I let my weight sink into her a bit more, going a couple inches deeper until I knew I needed to stop. She was clenching tightly around me and I could tell it hurt without her saying a word or crying out. I whispered that it was okay to her and kissed her closed eyelids and waited for her body to relax around me.

 

I decided to wait until she was relaxed and then to breach her quickly, wanting to get the pain over with as soon as possible. I surged forward into her a moment later and then my cock was buried entirely inside her. I rested a bit of my weight on her, our bellies touching as we both sucked in oxygen. Her body was trying to adjust to my intrusion and I was trying not to come from how bloody amazing it felt.

 

_I'm inside Hermione. Oh, fuck, I'm inside Hermione!_ My mind repeated the sentiment over and over as it tried to wrap around this change. That did nothing to help my body calm down and I tried to focus on other things to force my body to hold itself back.

 

Hermione's eyes were still clenched tightly and her jaw seemed to be as well, so it didn't seem to be a good moment to tell her that I was fucking dying from having to lie still. I could give myself a permanent injury from the effort it was taking to not thrust into her, but there was no way I was going to screw this up. To be fair, what had seemed like several minutes on end had probably only been slightly more than a minute- the torture of this precipice of pleasure making the time seem more drawn out than it was in reality.

 

Once I was sure I wouldn't lose it immediately, I kissed her several times in succession, waiting for her to unclench her jaw. As soon as she did, I slipped my lips over hers and slid my tongue around within her mouth, feeling her body meld into mine.

 

The hand that had been grabbing my waist squeezed me and I felt her try to propel my body into movement. I pulled back and pressed forward again, breaking away from her lips. Someday I might be coordinated enough to try to kiss her while I was thrusting, but today was not that day. It was taking all of my concentration and effort not to pound roughly into her and whatever was left was trying desperately to make sure we both got to enjoy it. Damn, it was an awful lot of work, but it felt bloody fantastic, so I wasn't complaining about a thing.

 

There was a hot, wet friction where her body was opening up to accept me and I felt a light sheen of sweat where our bellies rubbed together. My arm muscles were starting to ache from supporting my weight above her and I wanted to touch her, not the mattress, so I shifted onto my knees and pulled one of her legs to fit around my hip. _Fuck, that's it!_ Where she had felt snug and enveloping before, now I could feel her muscles squeezing around me. I looked up at her to make sure she was okay and she smiled before biting her lip and hooking her arm around my neck.

 

Every second felt like a minute, every minute felt like an hour, and yet neither of them were long enough for me. It was the strangest sensation of time being skewed and I wondered if it felt the same to Hermione. I couldn't have been moving inside her for more than a couple minutes, but surely it was another lifetime ago when I didn't know her in this way. What surprised me the most about the whole experience was how little we'd said to each other. Normally she'd talk everything into the ground and I'd waffle my way around, trying to keep up with her many veins of thought. In this, her body was doing the talking, letting me know when to move, when to wait, how to anticipate her needs. Of course, she was probably trying to concentrate on making herself relax and didn't have the energy to waste on words.

 

I leaned forward to kiss her again, awkwardly grasping her lips with my own and then I felt her moving her pelvis up to meet mine. She moaned particularly loudly and that moment was my undoing: I lost the minor control I'd had over my body. I pushed harder into her and groaned her name, somehow trying to warn her that I couldn't hold back anymore, and my hips jutted forward erratically a couple more times before I came inside her.

 

I was breathing heavily, my body slumped on top of hers, and I couldn't seem to get my body to stop shaking. She wrapped her legs fully around mine and kissed my check and my neck and her lovely fingers tangled into my hair. _I just made love to Hermione_ , I thought a bit disconnectedly, trying to stay focused on her shushing me and the warmth of her hand against my shoulder and the sweaty slide of her thigh near my hip. My cock slid out of her with a wet plop and that awakened my senses enough for me to realise I was probably nearly suffocating Hermione by lying on top of her. I tried to roll off of her, but she gripped me so tightly that we both ended up on our sides, our legs still entwined together.

 

I started to say I was sorry for not lasting longer, because I knew she hadn't come, but she leaned forward to kiss me and she sucked my tongue into her mouth and I knew she didn't really care. If she let me, I was going to try again and again tonight until she finally did- I wanted her to know what it felt like to fall apart in my arms. I'd been so overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside her that I had forgotten everything my brothers had told me about playing with her tits and helping her along by touching her clit.

 

A funny thought struck me and I started chuckling into her mouth, my laughter reverberating around her mouth a bit. She pulled back to look at me and I knew I looked like a loon; I didn't care.

 

"I bet when you said 'it'll be over soon' you weren't thinking it would be _this_ soon," I said and continued to laugh. I could've gotten embarrassed about it or wanted to crawl under the covers and pretend the foreplay hadn't been twice as long as the actual shagging had been. I could've, but I didn't, because it really didn't matter in the end.

 

"Actually, I did think it would be... you lasted longer than I thought you would," she said, laughing herself.

 

"Really?"

 

"I've heard of much worse," she said with a grin and I burst into another round of chortles. I knew her roommates at Hogwarts nor George would have ever told her something like that, so that meant she was talking about Harry. I really didn't want to think about why she knew that about Harry, but it made me laugh nonetheless.

 

"This is probably another of those 'I really don't want to know' moments, yeah?" I asked, snorting when she nodded and continued to giggle. "Hermione, that was... it was... damn!" Apparently my inability to talk coherently had come back.

 

"It really was," she said, knowing what I'd been trying to say, despite my inability to articulate.

 

"But you didn't-"

 

"Not the second time, but it was still... amazing," she finished with a whisper and fitted her head under my chin. Her breathing evened out fairly quickly and I knew she was asleep. How she could sleep right now, I had no idea. All I wanted to do was kiss her again and slide inside her again and feel her pulse around me. Once the shaking had subsided, I'd had this string of energy running through me. I wanted to get up, but didn't want to leave her side.

 

_So, that's what the big deal is,_ I thought happily. It was incredible, really, and I was so glad Hermione had convinced me we didn't have to wait any longer. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sound of her soft breaths and the feel of her chest rising and falling against my skin.

 

It seemed like only moments later when I felt Hermione's fingertips tracing up and down my chest and her lips placing open-mouthed kisses under my chin. I squirmed a bit, suddenly aware of my upper arm tingling from where her head had rested against it, and brought my hand to tuck a piece of her curly hair behind her ear.

 

It was the middle of the night and the sensible thing to do would have been to go back to sleep and enjoy the peace of the moment. _Sod sensible!_ She turned her head up as I nosed mine down and we met in a sensual kiss in the middle. Her mouth opened willingly to me, her tongue playing with mine. I felt a shiver run down my spine and pulled her closer to me, gripping her bum with one hand and her head with the other. I shifted onto my back and she ended up flush on top of me, her body rocking into me gently. My cock rose, growing and hardening between our bodies and she released my lips to laugh.

 

"Eager, aren't we?" she said as she sat up and looked down at it curving against her curls.

 

_Yes, I'm a randy sod. And?_ It shouldn't have surprised her at all. In fact, she was the one who had been trying to jump me all week long, so I was sure she was happy with the arrangement.

 

"Always for you," I answered, sitting up myself and scooting back against the pillows. "And you?"

 

She leaned forward to kiss me again and I took that as a yes. She got up on her knees and reached between us to angle her body properly above mine. She continued to glide her lips across mine as she slid slowly down my cock. I felt her muscles tense for a moment and her hand grabbed at my bicep to squeeze it tightly, but I kept kissing her and tangled her fingers with mine. Finally she was seated on top of me and it was the same as I had remembered and completely different. She didn't move her hips at all and I guessed she was trying to get used to the feeling again, which helped me to get my urgency under control.

 

"You okay?" I whispered and peppered her face with kisses.

 

"Yeah, I'm just really… and... well, you're rather big," she said with a slight twinge in her tone and I tried not to take perverted pleasure out of the fact that she said I was big, because that was hurting her at the moment. But, I was still a teenage bloke and my self-confidence grew a bit at that comment. It didn't really matter if I felt average in that department, she'd said I was big and she was the only one that mattered in that department. _Merlin, this is a ridiculous thing to be thinking about right now,_ I realised and switched my attention back to Hermione.

 

Her hands were clutching me a little less tightly and I chanced leaning her back lightly so I could capture the rosy tip of her nipple and suck it into my mouth. She arched her back when I did and I decided this was my favourite position of all-time, even though we'd only tried two so far. When she arched her back, her chest was thrust upward to be the perfect level for me to lick and suck at her tits as much as I wanted. Not only that, but when she rocked into me as she arched her back, she ended up grinding up and down on my cock. Everything felt so much more intense than a couple hours ago and I groaned around her nipple when I felt her slick, snug walls gripping me tightly. I licked my way up to her exposed neck and dipped my tongue into the hollow of her collarbone.

 

"So good," she moaned and a thrill shot through me. This time was definitely better for her than the last time had been, her wetness and the increase in her noises were all the proof I needed of that.

 

She rose up on her knees and sank back down onto me several times. My toes curled and the heated friction between us started to overwhelm me again. This time though, I was determined not to come until she did. I snaked my hand down to where my cock slid in and out of her and prodded my fingers gently until she jolted at my touch. She began to gasp loudly and breathed heavily and I felt her muscles tightening and releasing. She was close and so was I; I wanted to let go and thrust myself hard up into her, but instead I whispered "please, come for me" to her and leaned up to pull her other nipple into my mouth while I swirled my fingers against her swollen clit. I felt the exact moment that she finally let go. Her back bowed, her abdominal muscles became impossibly tight around my cock, feeling like the ebb and flow of waves crashing against a shoreline, and my fingers were flooded with more of her juices. 

 

_Bloody fucking hell, that was amazing!_ If I had thought her first orgasm was hot, it paled in comparison to this living, breathing embodiment of sexiness sitting on top of me.

 

I removed my fingers, remembering when she'd swatted them away the last time, and I brought them to my lips. Her scent wafted into my nostrils and I licked her juices greedily into my mouth. Her taste was intoxicating, tangy and salty and somehow sweet at the same time, and it coated the inside of my mouth. I couldn't think of a single food to compare the taste to. I imagined being able to swirl my tongue around her folds, sucking her clit into my mouth, and tasting her skin directly instead of salvaging her taste off of my fingers. _Maybe next time,_ I thought, realising she was probably too sore and raw down there to let my tongue anywhere near her.

 

Hermione began rolling her hips over me again and I felt my balls tightening into my body. I raised my knees behind her slightly to help give her leverage and began to thrust my hips up into her. Her arse slid on my thighs and then she leaned forward and kissed me again. I felt her knees gripping my hips and her pushing down more roughly onto my cock, her puckered nipples dragging against my chest and her hair hanging over her shoulder to brush against me with each rock of her body, and suddenly fire ripped through my belly to shoot into her. It caught me by surprise, but this time I didn't shake or become overwhelmed. I threaded my fingers into her hair and continued rolling my body under hers and nibbled on her tongue.

 

The entire thing hadn't lasted long, though certainly much longer than the first time had, but it was the most brilliant experience of my entire life. I thought this second time, in the middle of the night, was the one I would remember every, single detail of- it was the first one I'd been able to concentrate on us being together instead of the sensations flowing over me.

 

"Now, _that_ was amazing!" I exclaimed loudly and she grinned in agreement. She slid off of me and squeezed me tightly before rolling off the bed, slipping on her dressing gown, and walking toward the door. "Where do you think you're going?" I asked, surprised she was leaving me for the night.

 

"To the loo, Ronald, honestly!" she said as she walked out the door and I could picture her amused smile. She returned a couple minutes later, slid out of her dressing gown, and rested against my side. I hadn't moved the entire time she was gone, too satiated and happy to think about going anywhere. I turned my head to look at her, feeling immense peace with everything that had happened.

 

"I do love you so," she said, looking tenderly in my eyes and my heart clenched again.

 

"And I love you," I said, holding her to my heart, her breath ghosting over my chest. She was right, nothing had really changed. I loved her as much as I already had, though perhaps I felt a bit more connected to her than I had before. It was probably impossible to make love to the woman you're in love with and not feel at least a little more connected. "Hermione," I started, wanting to tell her she was right, but she didn't answer. Apparently shagging wore her out, since she fell asleep on me for the second time that night. No matter, we had all the time in the world.

 

The locket still wasn't a memory yet, but neither was what had happened tonight and this was so much more powerful than the Horcrux could ever be. This hadn't made the feelings inside me go away, hadn't magically changed the person I'd come to be through years and years of experiences, but it had quieted the voices. It gave me something to hold onto, a light in the darkness. It gave me peace. Tomorrow I could worry again, but right now? I was going to enjoy every moment, every breath of air we shared between us.

 

_I once was lost, but now am found..._

 

*****

 

Thanks so much for reading and coming on this journey with me! I hope you've enjoyed reading my fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Reviews are always loved and appreciated! ~Risie :o)


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